


Bend, Don't Break

by valis2



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 110,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valis2/pseuds/valis2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is at the end of his rope, but he will not let go.  Notes:  There is no medical beta involved with this fic.  The medical matters within are not realistic.  This fic is set in 1995.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Oddmonster and Tinx_r for the encouragement, and to Little Tristan and Catyah for listening to endless updates about the wordcount.

* * *

_Who's gonna tell you when  
It's too late  
Who's gonna tell you things  
Aren't so great  
You can't go on  
Thinking nothing's wrong  
Who's gonna drive you home tonight_

_Who's gonna pick you up  
When you fall  
Who's gonna pay attention  
To your dreams_

_Who's gonna hold you down  
When you shake  
Who's gonna come around  
When you break_

_You can't go on  
Thinking nothing's wrong  
Who's gonna drive you home tonight_

-"Drive," the Cars

* * *

Nick took a sip of whiskey as he looked around at the other partygoers. The condo wasn't crowded yet, but the night was young. Tammi winked at him, and he smiled in return and took another sip.

It had been a while since he'd smiled. Probably not since her last party; the last few weeks hadn't been friendly. His hip was the worst of it, the constant pain only barely touched by the painkillers he carefully spaced out. Today was the first day he'd woken up and hadn't had to force himself out of bed with a crowbar, and to celebrate, he'd shown up at Tammi and Eric's door with a six-pack of beer. He'd regret the expense later.

Tammi switched the music to something low-key and light, and she bubbled up to the door to meet one of her guests. Nick winced when he saw that it was Kathy; Tammi had fixed them up four months ago, and it hadn't ended well. He could see Kathy's frown, even from the door. Tammi whispered something in her ear, and she reluctantly handed over her jacket, which Eric took to the guest room.

_Probably best to slink off home._ Only Nick didn't want to leave. He was determined to make the most of a good day. A day so good he hadn't even brought his cane. He took his whiskey into the dining room instead, and stood next to the buffet table, snagging a few carrot sticks with a frown. Tammi had been on a health kick since marrying Eric, and her snacks had only gone downhill.

"Don't worry." Tammi came up next to him and laid a manicured hand on his arm. "She won't bite. She promised."

"But it's her favorite party trick," said Nick.

"You know what I mean." Tammi tapped him lightly with her fingers, and then gave him a serious look. "Thanks for...not leaving."

"Yeah, sure," said Nick, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, like there was too much charity in the air.

Tammi took the glass of whiskey from his hand and put it on the table behind him, pressing a fresh cold bottle of beer into his palm instead. "Enjoy yourself, Nick," she said, smiling. "Oh, and by the way, there's a friend of mine—"

Nick groaned. "No more," he said, only half-joking.

"Maureen. Red hair and freckles. Just talk to her." She waved her hand at him, the diamond ring sparkling, and vanished into the next room.

Maureen. Mo. There were worse names. He scanned the room, looking for a redhead, but gave up. Putting the bottle of beer down, he picked his whiskey back up and took a nice pull. He shifted his stance a little, and his hip gave a minor twinge. The pain made him think of his painkillers, and his thoughts turned to money. He wondered how long he'd be able to afford the pills he still needed on a near daily basis.

_Cross that bridge when you come to it. Don't go looking for more trouble than you've already got._ His father's words echoed in his head.

Nick could see through the doorway into the living room, and noticed Eric leaning over and whispering something into Tammi's ear. She looked up at him, shock plain on her face, and Nick wondered what was going on. _Nothing Eric can't handle. Somebody probably got too drunk and knocked over one of his volleyball trophies._

A few more people had entered the dining room, and he smiled and nodded at them. A very drunk girl in a checkered dress loudly declared the evening to be host to a grand ritual of fertility. _Yep, any minute now Eric will come in here and stick her ass in a cab and send her home. He's done it to me, after all._ He took another sip of whiskey, reveling in the indulgence. In the past year he'd barely had a drink. His face felt warm and the relaxing heat of the liquor rushed through his veins.

Another cluster of new people came streaming in, and the drunken girl was at the top of her game now, loudly chanting a pagan rite and proclaiming the kitchen as a sacred space for copulation. One of Eric's friends managed to get her by the elbow and drag her off.

Nick's eye roamed over the new arrivals. Two girls had already found a spot against the wall and were holding court. The third, a guy with his back to Nick, was chatting with Kathy. The guy was well-built, wearing a beautifully tailored suit, his hair a mixture of gold and light brown in an attractive cut— _checking out guys again, huh?_ —and Nick couldn't help but watch him. He was deliciously tall and lean, and Nick noticed his relaxed stance and the terrific broad line of his shoulders; his body language was self-assured and graceful. He made a gesture with a strong, tanned hand as Nick watched. Kathy laughed, and for a moment the guy turned his head slightly to the left, and Nick suddenly felt a searing flash of recognition that turned his bones to water.

His heart gave a lurch. He couldn't draw in a new breath.

Cody. The guy was Cody.

_Breathe. Breathe._ He took a slow, calming breath and put the whiskey down on the table, surprised that his hand was steady.

Any minute now, Cody would turn and see him. He hadn't wanted to slink away before, but this was something far different, and slinking was not only called for, it was required. He couldn't run, not even if he wanted to, and besides, it would attract too much attention. Slow and steady, he'd slip past him and go through the doorway. Straight to the car. If he tried going the long way through the kitchen, he'd walk directly past Cody's line of vision. He began to regret not bringing his cane.

Then he remembered his jacket and the half-full bottle of painkillers in the guest bedroom, and he nearly groaned. There was no way he could leave them there, not even just for tonight.

Still, if he could slip behind Cody and get past him, head left to the guest bedroom, maybe Cody wouldn't recognize him from the back, and he could make it to his coat and back. It was worth a try.

Shifting his weight to his good hip, he took an experimental step. And then another. His shoe squeaked on the linoleum. Looking down, he grimaced, realizing how shabby he looked, his patched jeans dotted with oil stains, his shirt hanging loosely from his frame. One of the girls Cody was talking to glanced at him and dismissed him almost immediately, turning back to the golden radiance that was his ex-friend. Ex-lover. Ex-world.

Another step, and Nick was nearly behind him. The suit was even more impressive close up, a fine linen weave, expensive and elegant.

Kathy's eyes slid over to him, and he caught a look of resignation before she turned abruptly and left. Dismissive Girl was still listening to Cody, and Nick thought he could slip past, but then at the last minute Cody turned.

At first Cody only blinked, clearly not registering who Nick was. Dismissive Girl yawned and walked away toward the buffet table.

Another heartbeat, and then recognition dawned over Cody's face.

Nick set his jaw. Looking Cody in the eyes was like a punch to the gut. His eyes weren't cold, exactly; they were...flat. Expressionless. The connection between them, the conversations they'd shared without words—all gone. For a long moment they locked eyes, and he felt the ache in his heart.

Cody just stared at him.

"Hey," he managed.

Cody blinked, as if that syllable had suddenly woken him from a deep sleep. "Nick," he said uncertainly.

Hearing his name from Cody's lips was another ache. "See ya round," he mumbled, and tried to get past him.

"That's it?" Cody put his hands on his hips. "After five years, that's what you have to say to me?"

Nick paused, hovering between the need to get the hell out of there or—what, he didn't know. "You need something else? We split the bank account already."

Cody's eyes raked over his shabby clothing and Nick felt the first flush of anger. "How about some civility? Some respect, at the very least."

"Listen, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," said Nick, jabbing his finger at him. "And what the fuck? _You're_ going to lecture me on respect?"

Something caught fire in Cody's eyes. "Respect," said Cody slowly and dangerously. "Trust. Honesty. Communication." He exhaled and then the fire banked itself as quickly as it had risen. "I don't have time for lessons any longer, Nick. And besides, you can't teach an old dog new tricks."

Nick stood utterly still, his temper roaring in his ears. "An old dog, huh? And what's this...oh wait, this is an old trick, you picking up someone new. Where's Jake? At home, ironing your underwear? Maybe he's not putting out and that's why—"

He never finished the sentence. He had fully expected Cody to punch him in the face, and was ready to block it, but clearly Cody had learned a new trick, because he shoved him instead.

There was only time for a single heartbeat before he fell, but in it he could see the terrible abyss yawning below him, and he wished with everything left in him that could still wish that he wouldn't screw up his hip worse than it already was.

And then he hit the ground.

The pain was delayed by a half-second, strangely enough, but when it hit he almost wished he'd blacked out, except that would mean being unconscious in front of everyone at the party. Then again, maybe writhing in agony on the floor wasn't much better. Pain flashed through him, howling, searing him alive, the intense flash of it flooding his senses until he thought he was going to die just from how much it hurt.

Four eternities later, Tammi was next to him, hand on his arm, murmuring urgently, and then he saw the bottle of pills in her hand. Popping off the lid one-handed, he swallowed however many dropped into his mouth, and Tammi handed him a glass of water to chase them down. She kept her hand on his arm, which helped somehow. He heard other people whispering in the background. _So much for a date with Mo._

Tammi and Eric helped him up, one on each side, though it was mostly Eric who deserved the credit for getting him to the guest bedroom. Nick was shaken from the agony, completely used up, and Tammi shifted coats to another room while Eric helped him lie down. The painkillers came in like the tide, washing away the pain, dulling his thoughts, and he let himself surrender to them.

Voices rose and fell, and he couldn't seem to open his eyes. Tammi, maybe, and then he heard a voice like dark honey, so familiar, so painful, and it made him want to curl away even tighter into himself. Then Eric's voice.

"... _after the accident..._ "

" _When did it happen?_ " Cody. Nick tried to shut out the sound.

" _Just over a year ago. I don't really know the details..._ " Tammi sounded upset.

Eric's voice cut through, clear and strong. " _I heard about it from a friend who works out of Point Mugu. A guy hired a chopper pilot because he wanted something sent to King Harbor, but then the pilot got sick, and the guy had to hire someone else fast. The helicopter was a rental—_ "

" _What happened?_ "

" _I don't know. Something about bad fuel. The chopper went down. I think Nick was thrown from it. He spent a lot of time in the hospital, and in rehab, and we weren't even sure he'd walk again._ "

The last thing Nick wanted was to remember the accident, much less have Cody hear about it. He desperately wanted to leave, but everything was murky, and he couldn't even get his eyelids to crack open. _How many pills did I take?_

" _...now?_ "

" _...still flying..._ "

" _...can't believe..._ "

Awareness faded, and Nick fell into oblivion with open arms.

—————-

A head stuffed with cotton balls. Eyes glued shut. Nick exhaled. _Start small._ A twitch of the hand, a shift of his head. When it seemed like he wasn't going to pass out or throw up, he dared to try opening his eyes. After a few useless attempts, he finally managed to get them open. _Breathe. Blink._

His heart gave a fresh lurch. Cody was sitting on a chair directly across from him, watching him. He was leaning slightly forward, elbows on knees, hands dangling, his mouth a grim line in the dim light. He'd taken off his jacket and his expensive silk shirt rippled with each breath.

This was not a scenario Nick had ever imagined, and he had no idea what to do. He blinked again, gathering strength. The alarm clock read 12:46, which meant that he'd been out for at least three hours. It was probably safe to attempt standing. Maybe even slinking.

He very slowly sat up in the bed, purposely ignoring Cody's gaze. A few careful inhales and exhales later and the dizziness was at a functional level. The ache in his hip was muffled and remote, and again he wondered how many pills he'd taken and how he'd get home. Six dollars wouldn't pay for a cab back to his apartment.

"Nick?" asked Tammi, coming into the room. She turned on the light and Nick turned away from the brightness. "Are you feeling better?" She sat down next to him, looking like an angel in her pale blue cotton bathrobe.

"Yeah," he said roughly. "Need to get home—"

"You're not driving," she said emphatically.

"I'll take him," said Cody quietly.

They both turned to look at him. "Cody, thank you so much," said Tammi, sounding relieved. Nick opened his mouth to argue with her, astonished that she would even consider the option, but then he remembered how late it was, and how much trouble she'd gone through for him already, and, with a spike of churlishness, he knew that it was irrational not to trust Cody in this situation. _What more can he do, anyway? He's already done the worst._

Nick shifted a little more. "Fine," he said. Tammi gave him a gentle hug, her smile tempered with understanding, and she helped him get his coat on. He heard the comforting rattle of pills in his pocket. He stood up with her help, leaning on her a little, and together they walked to the front door, Cody behind them.

At the porch Cody made an awkward attempt to steady him, but Nick pulled away, and managed to walk out to the driveway. There was a dark red Cadillac at the curb, and Cody held the door open for him. Tammi waved from the doorway and then turned off the light.

Getting in would have been misery had it not been for the painkillers he'd taken. The car was low to the ground, lower than even his Datsun, and he breathed in relief when he finally got both feet into the footwell.

The door shut, and for a moment, alone in the car, Nick felt a stab of panic. _There's still time to get out. My keys are in my pocket. I can get in my own car, drive myself home..._

"You're not driving," said Cody, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The Caddy purred to life.

"Obviously," said Nick, irritated that Cody had guessed what he was thinking.

"Where do you live?" Cody's tone was brusque.

"Westchester. Bayview Apartments, off Manchester."

Cody looked over at him, a quick glance that spoke volumes, and Nick suddenly felt tired down to his bones.

The trip was utterly silent. Cody didn't turn on the radio, and the car was luxuriously quiet, its darkly tinted windows making Nick feel isolated. His hip began to throb, dull at first but then increasing in intensity, a sure sign that the painkillers were wearing off. The PCH was lovely at night, the lights of the cars all strung together, and he wished he still had the 'Vette. It was a pleasantly warm night, the kind that begged for a convertible.

The sign for his apartment complex came into view, the peeling paint proclaiming _Bay ew Apart ents_ , and Cody wordlessly turned in, taking the speedbumps smoothly.

The name was ridiculous. There was no bay, and the only view of water was from the topmost row of apartments on the ocean side. He'd deliberately taken one on the east side of the building anyway. The ocean wasn't something he liked to look at now.

He directed Cody to his parking spot, and after the car was parked, he opened the door, moving slowly and carefully. He wanted another pill and a heating pad, asap, and he braced himself to get out of the car. Hurrying was no longer in his vocabulary, not since the accident, and he'd learned not to let the frustration get to him; it was already hard enough.

Unexpectedly, Cody was there, helping him out, and for a moment he wanted to refuse. But his pride had been stamped out by a stay in the hospital, and an even longer stay in rehab, and he grudgingly accepted. Cody's eyes were dark and unfathomable as they walked toward his ground-level apartment.

That was another reason to like this apartment besides its low rent; no steps. He fumbled for his keys and nearly dropped them. _Don't know why I even lock the door._ Straightening up, he caught a whiff of Cody's cologne, something spicy and exotic and no doubt expensive. Clearly he'd moved up in the world from using Old Spice.

The door swung open, and he hesitated for a moment, poised over another abyss. It was one thing to get a little help to the door; it was another thing entirely for Cody to see the inside of his apartment. Then he mentally shrugged. _Does it really matter?_

Cody followed him in, and he hit the light switch, revealing the tiny apartment in all its shabbiness, orange crates and milk crates and a few pieces of furniture he'd managed to inherit from other tenants who'd left and didn't want to take it with them. There were no valuables of any kind. The silverware drawer contained three forks and a knife, and his most prized possessions were a recliner that reclined nearly all the way back, a few heating pads, and a tiny black and white TV.

Hell, he couldn't even offer Cody a drink. Then again, he didn't know if Cody would take one from him. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable as he stared at Nick's meager belongings.

"Thanks," said Nick awkwardly. Cody's hand tightened on his arm. "I'm okay now, you don't have to stay." Nick scanned the room for his cane.

"Are you sure?"

Something in his tone made Nick look at him, but there was nothing on his face, just that eerie cold look in his eyes. "Yeah, Cody, I'm sure," said Nick, taking a step forward. Just saying his name was awkward. Pain lanced through his hip but he gritted his teeth, waiting for it to fade.

"Clearly you're not okay."

When Nick could speak again, he said, "I've been worse." Another painful step forward, but this time Cody supported him, pulling him close, and Nick tensed against the warmth of his body.

"Where are you going?" asked Cody, exasperated.

"I'm going to get my cane, okay? And then I'm going to take a pill, hit the head, and go to bed and pile on every heating pad I own. Is that okay with you?"

"I'll help."

Nick bit back a few nasty replies and exhaled. "Look, boy scout, you've done your good deed for the night. I've done this every night for months all by myself. I think I can manage."

Cody's grip didn't lessen. "I'm helping."

The exact words to banish Cody came to mind, but he didn't have the heart to say them. "Just go home," said Nick wearily. "I swear I'll be okay." _Well, except for being stranded without a car tomorrow. Maybe Eric and Tammi can drop it off..._

"I don't..."

"Go on," said Nick, breaking free of his grip and taking a few slow steps toward his cane. "Thanks for the ride." He pulled the bottle of pills out of his pocket and opened it expertly, swallowing one without water.

Cody hesitated at the threshold, watching him, but finally turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Nick sighed in relief.

———————

Sleep was a long time in coming. As expected, it was interrupted by Mrs. Stuart trying to cook Sunday breakfast in her apartment above him and burning something, causing the smoke alarm to go off, as it always did. Nick eyed the alarm clock and groaned. Seven o'clock.

A long hot shower would have been nice, but the hot water only lasted three minutes, just enough time to lather his hair one-handed while bracing the other on the tile wall, and by the time he was done he was shivering madly. Toweling off, he turned to the sink and decided against shaving. A quick brush of his teeth and a comb through his hair, and then he limped to the kitchen and surveyed the slim pickings in his fridge. A single egg and a couple pieces of bread. No coffee.

Thankfully, he had a good cargo run the next day. Early, but it would pay well. Nick had fallen in with Del Robertson six months ago, and Del had kept him in jobs. Not a lot of jobs, but honest jobs, no drug money or illegal immigrants, and it was enough for him to pay the rent, and for Mimi upkeep, and a little extra for the rest of his expenses. Everything else he'd had before had been hocked. His VA benefits had covered most of the medical bills—the emergency room bills and the surgery bill and some of the initial stuff—but they were erratic about covering everything else. His medical insurance had balked and tried to claim negligence, and hadn't paid a thing. Still hadn't paid, even after he'd filled out pages of paperwork and hung around offices and pestered people over the phone.

Worse still, his flight insurance company had agreed with the medical insurance company, and declared him responsible for the cost of replacing the chopper. The bills for the massage therapy and the physical therapy had started adding up, along with the overdue payments for the mortgage for his condo and utilities, and eventually he'd had to take a hard look at everything and decide what little he could keep. He'd sold the condo, hit the pawn shop, and hadn't looked back since.

At least he didn't owe anything any longer. That had been like a sword over his head, making him crazy. The 'Vette, his TV, his condo, the great stuff he'd bought when he'd been doing stunt piloting for a TV show...it was all gone, but what he had now was truly his, and he didn't have to worry about anything, except for the fact that he was late on rent by a few days. He'd paid three-quarters of it last week on time, but the last bit was overdue. Until tomorrow afternoon, after the cargo run. His landlord was usually pretty forgiving.

He fried the egg and made a sandwich out of it. There was a little bit of milk left, and he drank that, too. Which left a few slices of bologna for dinner. Well, he'd had worse meals, and he just needed to get through today, and then tomorrow he'd get paid and it would all work out.

He wasn't up to the recliner, and instead lay down on the sofa with a heating pad, and watched a little TV. His hip hurt worse than usual, probably from the fall, but he was hesitant about talking another painkiller, especially after having taken so many the night before. He winced at how much that had probably cost him.

At lunchtime he hobbled into the kitchen again and ate a slice of bologna with a little bit of mustard. He called Tammi's number, but there was no reply, and he left a message about picking up his car. If worse came to worse, Del would stop by and give him a ride to the helipad tomorrow morning.

The only thing he could say about the afternoon was that it wasn't good. He took half a pill at one o'clock, which finally took the edge off so he could stop gritting his teeth. Sunday afternoon TV was boring, and he finally turned it off and started reading one of the books he'd picked up at the library last week.

At five o'clock there was a knock at the door, and he grimaced. It was the landlord's favorite time to come calling because most of the tenants were home. He grabbed his cane and made it to the door only a little more slowly than usual and yanked it open. "Mr. Taylor, I promise—"

It wasn't Mr. Taylor.

"You forgot my name already?" said Cody. He looked gorgeous in the warm afternoon sunshine, all golden and dazzling, wearing a beautiful cream-colored sweater and white slacks.

"What..." Nick licked his suddenly dry lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Tammi said you needed to get your car," said Cody, smooth as ever. "I told her I'd pick you up. It's my fault you had to leave it there, anyway. Plus, we can go out to dinner."

Nick blinked, taken aback. "Dinner?"

Cody's artful facade slipped a little. "I'd like to talk," he said quietly, his gaze flicking to the apartment, then back to him. "Dinner's on me."

He couldn't imagine that there was anything left to say, and was tempted to say so, but there was something in Cody's eyes, a little furtive glimpse of hope, and he was sunk. He gave a nod. _Gotta get my car back anyway._

The perfect face was back in place, dazzling blue eyes impossible to read. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." Then he remembered what he was wearing and what he looked like. "No—wait. Just give me a minute." He leaned heavily on the cane and went back to the tiny single bedroom, pulling off his t-shirt and stripping off the sweats while not flexing his hip, a maneuver which had taken weeks of practice. He slipped on a pair of loose jeans and winced, waiting for the pain to subside. He found a clean polo shirt, a little frayed at the neck, but he doubted anyone would get close enough to find out. Taking the shirt with him to the bathroom, he hung it on the door and shaved quickly, ignoring the ominous throb in his hip.

After he'd toweled off, he slipped on the shirt and noticed Cody staring at him. It was pretty obvious why; Nick had lost weight in the hospital, in the rehab facility, even after, and hadn't really managed to gain anything back. _I should write a book about the bologna diet. Probably turn out to be a best seller._

"Ready?" he said, picking up his jacket. His hip gave him another jolt, and he gave up and took the other half of the pill.

Cody gave a nod, and Nick leaned on his cane, locking the front door behind him as he went out.

The Cadillac wasn't in the parking lot, and Nick watched as Cody got in a dark red Yukon. He blinked. _Cody has two cars?_ He went to the passenger door and breathed in relief. It was higher up, and a hell of a lot easier to get into than the Caddy.

There wasn't much to say. Cody drove, Oakley sunglasses in place, and Nick was stuck staring out the window. He found the lever to recline the seat and pushed it back a couple notches to ease the pain in his hip. The pill had kicked in, blunting the ache. His eyes caught the far-off flash of the sun on the water, and he winced.

Cody turned off the PCH and drove through King Harbor, and Nick felt a little sick inside at the sight. It reminded him too much of his old life with the agency. _It's all water under the bridge._ He exhaled. _And now the only contact you have with Murray is a Christmas card signed by his wife, and Cody shoves you the first time he sees you._

Trying to get his emotions under control, he realized suddenly that they'd come to a stop under an awning. The elegant glass doors bore the logo of Parkville West, the fanciest restaurant in King Harbor. Cody got out, and Nick opened his own door. A valet appeared almost instantly in the driver's seat, impatiently tapping his foot against the pedal while Nick struggled to get out of the truck. As much as he'd hated the idea of a cane at first, and how people would look at him, he'd come to accept it. He leveraged himself out of the seat carefully, Cody standing nearby and waiting.

Inside, a girl took their coats, giving Cody a shy grin that revealed perfectly white teeth. The maitre'd took one look at Cody and immediately ushered them back to a private table. A few of the other diners openly stared at Nick. He didn't know if it was the limp or the clothes, but most pretended that he didn't exist.

He sat down and another girl brought them both a hot towel. It felt delightful in his hands, warm and steamy and soft, and he was almost reluctant to let it go. Yet another girl opened menus and handed one to him. The leather folder was dark, and the paper insert inside was thick and heavy. There were no prices next to the items and most of the names were in French.

There was always a trick for restaurants like this, though, and that was to order a steak, which is exactly what he did. Cody was paying, after all. The waiter asked the requisite questions about sauce (no) and preparation (medium rare) and then Cody ordered something in French, along with a bottle of wine.

After the waiter left, they stared at each other. Nick was acutely aware of how surreal the situation was. In five years, there hadn't been a word between them, but now they were sitting at a table together, breaking bread, so to speak. _Nothing lasts forever._ He thought of his father's sayings often these days.

Another waiter came up, dressed differently, the bottle of wine in his hands, and began to rattle off things in French, pointing to the label. Nick watched as he went through a ritual with Cody, letting him smell the cork, check the body, make certain the wine was what he expected. There was a companionable vibe between the two, as if Cody came here often. When it came time to pour, Nick held up his hand in refusal. The expression on Cody's face did not change.

After the wine guy left, Cody took a sip, and put the glass down again. "Tammi said that you were still flying," he said in a perfectly neutral tone.

"Yeah," said Nick warily. "Cargo runs, mostly. King Harbor to Point Mugu, quick runs, or sometimes industrial jobs, like moving stuff at a construction site."

Cody's reply was neutral, inoffensive, and he continued to keep the conversation moving. He'd always had a gift for small talk, but it was clear he'd honed it further, and Nick marveled at the smooth way he talked, how he skirted difficult topics and kept the tone light and comfortable. No mention was made of his accident, or his hip troubles. Not a hint of Jake or even what had happened the night before. Cody talked about sports and tried a few entertainment topics, but when it became clear that Nick had seen only one movie in the last year, he changed the subject to road construction and then told an amusing story about a friend who'd gotten a flat tire on the 105.

He kept it up during the meal, too, interjecting commentary about the restaurant and getting a custom paint job for the Yukon. The steak was absolutely delicious, melt-in-your-mouth, and Nick savored every bite of the third he was able to eat before his stomach protested over the richness of it all. The waiter came by again, asking if there was something wrong, and Nick smiled his widest smile and asked for a doggy bag. For a moment Cody looked surprised, but then there was the tiniest hint of a smile before it vanished.

Nick's steak was packaged elaborately and placed in a frosted plastic bag with the restaurant's logo in gold on the front. There was no use in ordering dessert, and he excused himself from the table and made his way to the men's room. A washroom attendant sat just inside the door, and Nick gave him a dollar before heading back out to the table.

On the way, he saw Manny, one of their clients from the old days of the detective agency. Manny stared at him, the flash of recognition obvious, but then his gaze flickered down to the cane, and he took an elaborate route around another table to avoid talking to him. Nick made his way back to Cody and sat down.

The wine bottle was half-empty, but Cody didn't show a hint of inebriation. He launched into a story about a friend of his who'd gotten hit with a tennis ball, but there was something just a little off about his delivery at first, and Nick realized that he must have seen the Manny incident. The waiter presented Cody with the check, and Cody continued telling the story smoothly, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out a platinum-colored credit card. Putting it into the leather sleeve, he handed it to the waiter with a smile, and went right back to the story, barely missing a beat.

Clearly Cody did this a lot. Nick wondered what he did for a living. Car dealership, maybe? That would explain having two vehicles. And the custom paint job. The waiter returned and Cody signed the slip with only the barest glance, telling the punchline at the same time, and Nick would have laughed, except it was like he was sitting at a table with an animated statue of Cody instead of Cody. It was eerie.

At the door, the same smitten girl brought them their coats, giving Cody the same delighted grin, and Cody smiled and gave her a twenty. Nick leaned his cane against his leg and shrugged his jacket on, grabbing the cane again as it started to slip, and noticed the valet pulling up in the Yukon. Cody held the glass door open for him and Nick walked through into the cooling air of the evening. The glowing ocean sunset was pretty, as they always were, and Nick tried not to remember watching them with Cody. He rubbed his eyes, feeling sleepy.

He got in, his hip sparking and aching. He wasn't looking forward to driving home. He'd switched to driving an automatic because there was no way he could work a clutch any longer, but even that could be challenging. Cody was telling another story about the tennis ball friend, who'd apparently wanted to build a sandbox for his kids and ended up with a pool instead. Tammi's house wasn't that far, and Nick tried to block out the pain in his hip, focusing on Cody's voice instead, even though that was painful in its own way, too.

Twilight was stealing across King Harbor, and the streetlights came on. Cody drove smoothly and fluidly across town, and Nick listened as the story grew, and the friend found himself digging in the middle of the night, convinced that there was sand buried underneath the rocky soil of his backyard.

Cody pulled into a subdivision, one of those new ones full of giant houses with huge garages and closed-off backyards and gorgeous landscaping, and suddenly Nick was confused. This couldn't possibly be a shortcut to Tammi's place; most of these subdivisions ended in cul-de-sacs. He frowned and tried to sit up, and then Cody turned into a driveway and the garage door rose, revealing the Caddy, and a motorcycle.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Nick. Then it clicked into place. "This is your place."

"I told you," said Cody quietly. "I want to talk."

"We did talk," said Nick, pissed off. "And now's where you take me to my car and—"

"I want to _really_ talk." Cody looked at him, the expression on his face impossible to read. "Unless you're afraid to."

The old Nick would have risen to the bait and told him he could talk all night, and that _Cody_ was the one who was afraid, but that wasn't him any longer. "Fine. We talk, and then you take me to my car."

"Deal." Cody's lips quirked into a smile. "C'mon in."

Nick got out, noticing the workbench behind the motorcycle, which was covered with belts and parts. The bike was half-disassembled. An Indian, he thought, and followed Cody to the doorway. Two steps, one higher than the other. Nick tried not to swear as he used his right leg to pull himself up and stood swaying on the threshold until Cody grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him.

Inside everything was clean and spacious. Immaculate. The kitchen had copper pots hanging from a rack and perfectly white appliances. Cody ushered Nick into the living room, which featured luxurious white carpeting and a red and chrome glass-topped table. Two metal chairs with leather seats sat opposite a large white leather couch. There were a few paintings on the wall, all abstract using only red, white, and black, with the largest above the white fireplace.

"Anything to drink?" asked Cody.

"No, I'm fine," said Nick, sitting down slowly on the couch. It was uncomfortable, being a strange height and too soft and slippery. He had to brace his right leg to keep from sliding off, and his hip protested strongly at the angle. He was exhausted and the meal had made him even sleepier, and he wanted nothing more than to get home. Now. Cody came out with a glass of wine and sat down in one of the metal chairs, sliding it closer.

The phone rang, but Cody made no move to pick it up, drinking from his wine glass instead. There was a beep in the kitchen, and the tinny voice of someone leaving a message.

"Nice house," said Nick experimentally.

"Thanks," said Cody. "There's a pool in the backyard, and a patio, and some great landscaping. I have a gardener..." His voice trailed off.

"How long've you lived here?"

"Three years." Cody took another sip of wine. "Jake and I bought it together, right after I got my realtor's license."

Nick tried to ignore the prickle of anger. _It's all water under the bridge._

Realtor. Well, that explained his amazing conversational skills, the gorgeous house, the cars, the wardrobe. Cody was obviously pretty successful at real estate, which made sense. People trusted him, liked him, and he could be funny and unflappable and patient, all of which were required in selling houses.

The phone rang again, and the tinny voice was even more insistent.

Patience was something Nick had learned a lot about over the last year. When to be patient, and when not. His hip was throbbing incessantly now, and he knew it was the latter situation. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Listen, enough beating around the bush. Just tell me what you wanted to say."

Cody put his wine glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He looked down at the carpet, as if composing his thoughts. Nick shifted again on the uncomfortable couch and tried not to hiss at the resulting spike of pain.

"You and I..." began Cody. He tried again. "After you..." He shook his head, looking frustrated.

"Look, you better tell me now," said Nick wearily. "Before Jake comes home and gets jealous."

There was nothing but emptiness in Cody's eyes as he gazed at Nick. "Jake died two years ago."

A million strange and wild thoughts crowded Nick's head at once. It was impossible that Jake could be dead; he'd been too much a part of Nick's mental map for years, a focus for his anger, a scapegoat to kick and rage at for the first months, and then later a symbol in his head, signifying the end of his golden years with Cody. What had Jake died from? Was Cody dying? Why hadn't Tammi told him? There was a terrible thrill of revenge, a feeling of horror that he'd said what he'd said last night, fright, regret—

"He was hit by a drunk driver," said Cody without emotion. "Afterward, his family fought with me about the house, his belongings, everything."

"I...I'm sorry."

"Me too," said Cody simply. "I gave them just about everything but the house. The will was airtight, and I didn't have to give them a cent, but I thought they might want...his things." He picked up the wine and stared at it. "At first they were pretty angry about it, but they finally came around. I even had lunch with his sister about four months ago."

"That's...that must have been really hard. I'm sorry, man, really." In his heart, he still hated Jake, hated him for taking Cody away, but it didn't mean he couldn't feel bad about what Cody must have gone through.

Cody nodded, looking a little lost, and Nick felt another wave of sympathy before remembering that he was still supposed to be angry at Cody. "Is that what you wanted to tell me, then?" he asked. He slipped a little further on the couch before planting his foot more firmly in the carpeting.

"I've been..." Cody stood up suddenly and walked around the chair. "These past two years..." He sat back down again and drank the rest of his wine in a gulp. He looked at the couch, not at Nick. "I've thought about..."

"Cody, c'mon," said Nick softly. "It's late. I'm here. What do you want?"

Cody looked like a deer, trapped in the headlights. "Nick, when I think of you..." He raked a hand through his hair, looking genuinely frustrated.

"You think of me?"

Cody nodded. And then, completely unexpectedly, he put his face in his hands and began to cry.

Nick gaped at him. In all the years he'd known Cody, he'd only ever seen him cry three times; in 'Nam after he'd shot a girl in a blue dress, at his father's funeral, and one night after a horrible nightmare, one so bad Cody never even told him what it was about. Just as Nick managed to get his cane into the right position to leverage himself out of the horrible artsy sofa, Cody suddenly got up and disappeared into another room. He heard the door slam.

He sat there, confused and offbalance, unsettled by this uncharacteristic display of emotion. _What the hell do I do now? Barge in and hug him? Steal the Caddy and escape to my car?_ Cody was in trouble, and his first impulse was to help him, but he couldn't imagine how. The phone rang a third time and the machine picked up but there was only a dial tone.

Ten minutes passed by, and another ten minutes, and Nick's hip was really starting to give him hell, and his right leg was none too happy about holding him steady on the couch. Not to mention that he was so tired that, had it not been for the pain in his hip, he'd probably have fallen asleep on the couch, despite how spectacularly uncomfortable it was. He was just about to go find Cody when he emerged, his eyes a little red, the cold blankness back, the facade at maximum. Nick sighed in frustration.

"I apologize," said Cody stiffly. "I think the wine..."

"You want to blame it on the booze, that's fine by me, pal." Nick didn't have a lot of patience left for the rest of the evening, and he didn't want to waste it on the robot version of Cody. "But I think I've heard enough for one night. I really gotta get my car." He braced himself with the cane and stood up awkwardly, his right leg cramping with the movement. The couch's low arms were too soft to be of any help, and he floundered, frightened that he was going to fall again, but then Cody grabbed him by the waist.

"Maybe you should lie down before we go," said Cody.

_If I lie down, I'll be out like a light._ "Nah. Just...get me to my car." He yawned again, and he felt Cody's strong arms guiding him across the room, helping support his weight. The cologne was in his nose, spicy, and he savored the scent, its complex undertones. He could still smell Cody, though, the essence of him, the musky fragrance that he had once loved more than anything in the world. "Hey, the door's the other way—"

"You need to lie down." Cody looked worried and stubborn all at once, and again they seemed like genuine emotions, and Nick stumbled. Cody's hold tightened, and Nick had to stand still for a moment, getting his breath back. "Just for a few minutes, at the very least. You can't drive like this."

_You'd be astonished what you can do if you have to._ He sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Cody was right. If he could just get the pain to subside for a little while it would help. He'd take it easy for ten minutes, maybe twenty, and then call it a night. And say goodbye to Cody, probably for forever. Again.

"Easy," said Cody, helping him into a room. "Stop for a moment..." He turned on the light. "Okay. C'mon." The room was furnished entirely in light teal colors, and the bed looked incredibly inviting. With Cody's help, he lay down on his right side, and then Cody pulled a blanket across him, and turned off the light. Nick wanted to protest, to say he didn't need to shut off the light, but he was too tired, and within moments he was asleep.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Red numbers. Nick stared at them, trying to make sense of what time it was, but his brain was still too fuzzy, and he gave up. He was warm and comfortable. Much more comfortable than his own bed. Kathy's bed? No, that was impossible. He frowned, trying to concentrate.

Cody's bed. At least, the bed in his guest bedroom. With a start, he remembered Cody crying, the raw pain in his eyes, the dinner, the drive.

One thirty in the morning.

He blinked. This was important. Something important was supposed to happen.

With a curse, he remembered the cargo run. He pulled off the blanket and sat up, sliding his leg off the bed, trying not to bend his hip. There was a little light leaking in from the open doorway, and he located his cane and got up. There was a bathroom adjoining the room, and he relieved himself and washed his hands and splashed a little cold water on his face, and went back out in the living room.

Cody was sitting on the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table, staring at the gas fire hissing in the fireplace. His face was gorgeous, lit by the soft glow of the flames, his cheekbones and the tawny color of his hair burnished gold by the light. He looked up at Nick.

"You need to take me to my car," said Nick. "Now."

Cody cleared his throat. "You still—"

"Look, I don't care," said Nick. "All I know is, you don't get me to my car now, I'm gonna lose a job. Maybe you can afford to lose a sale, maybe even a few of them, but I can't."

Cody looked like he wanted to argue, but finally gave in. "Fine."

"C'mon, let's go," urged Nick. Cody picked up his keys and they went out into the garage. Going down the steps was just as tricky, especially because they were different heights, and he had to hold onto Cody's arm for a moment, and then they got in the Yukon and pulled out into the dark, quiet neighborhood.

The drive was quick, and Cody pulled up next to Nick's battered Datsun, the cracks in the windshield reflecting the light from the Yukon's headlights. "Thanks for dinner," said Nick awkwardly. Cody gave him a tight smile, and Nick got out and watched as he drove away. _Is this what forever feels like?_

The night air was cool, and getting into the Datsun was a pain, but soon enough he was headed home. He stopped at a 24 hour gas station and put his last five dollars in the tank.

His apartment was empty and seemed shabbier than usual. He poured a glass of water from the tap and drank it, cursing when he realized he'd left the doggie bag in the Yukon. _A shame to let a good steak go to waste._ Still, his stomach wasn't exactly happy with him over it. He'd been living off too little for too long.

He wasn't sleepy, so he settled down in the recliner and read a few more pages. Everything was dark and quiet, the only noise the occasional squeak of Mrs. Stuart turning in her bed. Nick got up and called for the weather conditions, listening while he checked the oatmeal container. There was enough for a few spoonfuls so he heated some water. Once he'd scraped the bowl clean, he poured hot water into a cup and drank that, too. At three fifteen he shaved again and brushed his teeth. At three thirty he got into the Datsun and drove over to Del's rented space at Hawthorne Airport.

Del was waiting for him, bright-eyed as always. "Nicky!" he called out.

Nick gritted his teeth. "Yeah, hey, Del."

"Wow, rough weekend, huh?" Del looked at him sympathetically.

"You could say that." Nick wasn't in a mood to say more. "Is the load ready?"

"It's just a briefcase," said Del. "This guy's son lives in San Fran, and he wants you to take the briefcase to him, and back. Oakland." He handed him a slip with the information.

Nick took the paper without looking, staring at him. _A briefcase?_ "Del—"

"I know what it sounds like." Del looked up at him. "But Nicky, I'd never steer you wrong, you know that. I don't deal in illegal stuff. It's completely legal, but it needs to be transported fast, and safely. And the guy—he's ex-Army, and doesn't trust almost anyone."

"Okay," said Nick, still feeling wary. "But if there's any—"

"There won't be," said Del, waving his hand. "C'mon, he'll be here any second. And he's already calculated wind speeds and velocity and he wants you there and back in six and a half hours. Are you fueled?"

 _Six and a half hours? That's cutting it close._ "Yeah, and actually, I wanted to talk about that. I've been buying fuel from Dave—"

"Huh? Dave's no longer in business." Del started walking toward Mimi.

"He sold to a guy named Jim," said Nick, trying to keep up with Del's quick pace. "Listen, has anyone else bought fuel from Jim in the last week?"

"Doubt it." Del eyed him curiously. The other guys used cheaper fuel, which Nick already knew, but if there was a chance that one of them had already made a flight from this new batch of fuel, he wanted to know.

"Dave always had good quality fuel. But Jim—he just ran out of the last of Dave's fuel, and he got a new shipment. I looked at a sample, but I was..."

"I keep telling you, you should just go with Sharky's fuel," said Del, obviously tired of this very old conversation between them. "Nicky, you're spending a fortune. Sharky's stuff is fine. We've never had a problem. Oh, here's the client." He waved to an older gentleman in a suit. "Mr. Kandawar, this is Nick Ryder, the pilot I was telling you about. He'll be transporting your briefcase."

"Good to meet you," said Nick, putting out his hand.

Mr. Kandawar had a very firm grip. "I expect you to land in Point Mugu at oh seven fifteen hours," he said. "Once my son brings you the package, you are to depart immediately. My son will call me and inform me of your departure time from Oakland. Any attempt to deviate from this will result in a forfeit of your fee."

Nick blinked. "Listen, that's not the way—"

"He understands," said Del quickly. "He's really dependable, Mr. Kandawar, my most dependable pilot. You can rest assured that he'll stick to the schedule."

Nick tried again. "There might—"

"Okay, Nicky, time to fly," interrupted Del, handing him the briefcase. "Off you go." He took Mr. Kandawar by the arm and led him to the office.

Nick limped off to Mimi, trying to suppress the rising worry. Getting into the cargo bay, he stashed the briefcase in a locker and pulled the cargo door closed. He got into the pilot's seat from the inside; he could no longer climb in from the outside.

San Francisco. Oakland International Airport, and then back again. A longish flight. He grimaced. Six and a half hours in the air, at the least, with favorable winds. He hoped it would go well. The first half hour would be flying in the dark over the ocean, which wasn't his favorite thing, but if the money was good, then he couldn't complain. He just hoped that Kandawar Junior showed up on time.

The sun rose, and his hip ached. He counted off the miles. Los Padres National Forest was beneath him. His last reserve duty had been there. Too bad he couldn't do it any longer; he could really use the extra pay.

He yawned and pulled off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes. The day was cloudless and beautiful with very little wind; a dream to fly in. He shifted in the seat, trying to get his hip into a more favorable position. His doctor had recommended against further piloting, but there was no way he could give it up; he loved flying Mimi, loved being in the air, loved the freedom and the ability to let go of his problems for a few hours.

His hip hurt, though. He couldn't ignore it. Having to work two pedals and two hand controls meant that he had no choice but to rely on his left leg, and every movement caused a twinge.

The sun was up, the forest a huge swath of green below him, and he smiled. This was heaven. He could almost forget the growl in his belly and the ache in his hip. This was what made the hours of painful therapy worth it. And if he had to drink hot water in the morning instead of coffee so he could have good quality fuel, then that's what mattered. Besides, Doctor Saunders had gone after him about the caffeine.

By the time he hit San Francisco, though, he was feeling the strain. He'd taken a few long flights since the accident, even a couple longer than this one, but he was exhausted from the weekend and he knew that his erratic eating habits were catching up to him. At least this paycheck would mean he'd have a few square meals for the next week, as long as Kandawar deemed his piloting skills as adequate.

Del usually weeded out the scary clients and passed them on to Larry or Sparky. They had more patience, and they were the youngest of the six pilots he employed. Del must have been especially worried about pleasing Kandawar.

Nick wondered what was in the briefcase.

At seven fourteen he touched down at Oakland International Airport. A guy in his late twenties stood there, wearing baggy clothing and large gold chains on his neck, as well as a huge pendant set with diamonds. There was another guy with him, somebody from the airport, and they switched briefcases out of the locker, and Nick got the all clear sign. He shivered.

 _Please, let it not be drugs._

He took off. Part of him knew that he should stop and try to stretch out a little, or at least rest, but he was worried about being late. He yawned again and wished that he'd had something edible to bring along. Anything. He was getting hungrier.

At least Del would have a check waiting for him, and if everything went well, he'd be at the bank getting it cashed before noon. He grinned and thought of all the food he was going to buy. And he'd get a haircut. His father's voice echoed ominously in his head, something about chickens and hatching, and he sighed and focused on his piloting.

He wondered if this would be a regular route. Maybe Kandawar would want to rehire him if this went well. If so, then he wanted to know what he was transporting. This was scary stuff and he had no desire to go to jail. All of his trust was wrapped up in Del right now, and he had to hope that Del wouldn't steer him wrong.

Off to the right he could see the curve of the ocean melting into the sky. It made him think of Cody, and he thought of the night before, and wondered what Cody had been trying to tell him. Why he'd been so upset. _Does it really matter? I doubt I'll see him again._

Unless Cody decided to keep hanging out with Tammi and Eric. Nick didn't want to avoid Tammi's parties; they were the only thing left on his social calendar. But he didn't want to run into him again that way. He still couldn't get over the horrible shock of seeing him there.

He'd looked so gorgeous. For a moment Nick let his mind wander, remembering those beautiful blue eyes, the delicious feel of his golden skin, the amazing ass, the sounds he made while—

Blinking, he shook himself out of the reverie. _No good dwelling in the past._ He shifted in his seat again, and a spike of white-hot pain suddenly flared in his hip. He concentrated on his usual strategy, breathing through it, and it subsided.

Los Padres was below him again. He loved flying over it. It looked nothing like 'Nam. The sun lit the leaves until everything was dappled and green below. He tried to relax, tried to push aside the exhaustion and the hunger and the pain. He was alive, he was still flying, and he was still above water. Even if Kandawar stiffed them, he had another run on Wednesday, and he could make it until then. Mrs. Stuart might loan him an egg or two.

He snorted. The idea of Mrs. Stuart loaning anyone anything was pretty funny.

Malibu was coming up fast. He rubbed his eyes again. This was the last stretch, mostly over water, angling back to Hawthorne. _Nearly home._ He could feel the fatigue settling in further, making him loopy, but he knew he could do it. Just another thirty minutes in the air, at the most.

The water glimmered below him. Tiny white shapes littered the surface of the ocean, making him think of the _Riptide_. He wondered what Cody had done with her. Maybe he kept her as a party boat. It felt strange not to know.

Mimi's engine growled along in her usual song, and then he heard a tiny hiccup.

Anyone else would probably have missed it. But Nick knew every single noise and wobble, every bolt, every line and every washer, and he clutched at the controls, frightened at what it could signify.

Another hiccup.

And then a cough.

His heart raced. _I'm over water and it's bad fuel and the engine and I'm over water and there's noplace to go—_

 _Breathe._

His hands clutched the controls so tightly that his knuckles cracked. _Bad fuel and I'm over water and bad fuel and water—_ Another agonizing jolt of pain ran through his hip.

This couldn't be happening.

He cursed Jim with every possible curse he could think of, most from 'Nam, but a few from his Italian grandmother as well. There was another cough, and he did the only three things he could think of; reduce speed, reduce altitude, and pray.

His first, and completely irrational, thought was to hail the _Riptide_. His second thought was to contact Del, but there wasn't really anything he could do. He thought about turning around and heading to Malibu, but he had no idea if he'd make it. And to let go of the controls and click the radio button was impossible. His hands were clenched and nearly bloodless. He remembered the blazing pain of hitting the ground, of trying to crawl away from the wreck, the realization that he might not be found, the fright and the misery and the pain. The pain that had almost eaten him alive. The pain that had almost broken him.

He could barely take in a new breath. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt the fear rising. This was nearly as bad as 'Nam, except he'd had other guys to look out for, which made it worse. Here there was just him. _I don't want to die._ Mimi shuddered, losing a hundred feet, and his heart lurched into his throat. He remembered all those times in the hospital when he'd screamed himself awake from nightmares about the sound the chopper made as it hit the ground, and yet this was so much worse.

Every muscle was wound tighter than a drum. The blazing agony in his hip kept increasing, ratcheting up a degree with every agonizingly slow mile he traveled, until he thought he might pass out. _Over the ocean—_ He took a shuddering breath. If he lost Mimi over water, she was done. On land, he could set her down, and just about rebuild her from the ground up if he had to. But over water, she'd be lost, sunk in the depths, gone forever. He couldn't breathe. Black spots appeared in his vision, and he blinked, trying to clear his sight. He took in a choked breath, then another. _I can't lose Mimi. I can't lose her._ King Harbor came into view, and he took another ragged breath, daring to hope.

He managed to signal the tower that he was coming in, and Del was suddenly shouting at him through his headphones. Another white-hot lance of pain shot through his hip, and it took everything he had to set Mimi down safely, every last ounce of energy, everything he had to give. He cried out when she hit the landing pad, jarring his leg. _Gotta shut her down—_ His left hand reached out of its own accord, reflexes taking over, hitting switches, and there was a whine and another cough as the engine died down.

He found that he couldn't get his right hand to let go of the collective.

Voices, someone shouting and someone placating, and then the sound of the cargo door opening, and Del came up, sounding like he was at his wit's end. "You're fifteen minutes late!" he said. "Nicky, you were my only chance at securing this route..." He trailed off, staring at Nick. "Nicky?"

Nick turned his head a little, realizing that he was panting and that he didn't think he could actually get out of the seat. "Bad fuel," he finally managed to croak.

Del disappeared from view. Kandawar's angry voice resonated through Mimi, and then he heard the sound of the locker being opened. Del's voice was plaintive before it faded away.

Nick still couldn't let go of the collective. _First things first._ He had to get his breathing under control. His hip was a burning mass of fire, so painful that he had to fight to stay conscious, the edges of his vision greying out and wavering.

Footsteps, and suddenly Cody was there in between the seats. Nick blinked. _Am I so messed up that I'm hallucinating?_ Cody looked frightened, eyes wide, and his hand was on Nick's arm. With a start, he realized that Cody's lips were moving.

"...move your hand for me?"

"What?" asked Nick.

"Your hand," said Cody patiently. "Can you let go? You need to stand up so you can get out."

Nick looked down and realized that Cody must have unbuckled the harness. "Out..."

"Just let go." Cody's voice was gentle.

With effort, Nick flexed his fingers. He shifted his feet off the pedals, first the right, and then the left, which sent another hellish spike of pain through his hip, one so painful that it threatened to break him. He gasped aloud.

"Just hold on, Nick, it'll be all right." Cody was everywhere, supporting him, getting him into the cargo bay, helping him get his feet on the ground. Nick leaned on him, his limbs not obeying his orders properly. Above everything there was the blazing pain that stole his breath away.

Del was in front of them, folding up a piece of paper and sticking it in the pocket of his shirt. He exchanged words with Cody, his eyes darting to look at Nick and then back at Cody, and Cody nodded, and then they were moving again. The Yukon came into view.

The shakes started. Nick trembled, the adrenaline deserting him, his legs like noodles, and Cody cursed but somehow managed, and Nick was finally in the passenger seat, completely wiped out. His vision was spinning, and he was glad his stomach was empty. Things kept appearing and disappearing, darkness and light, and then he heard the slam of a door and the vehicle rocked slightly. His door opened, and Cody helped him out, his voice soothing, encouraging. Those bastard steps in the garage almost got him, but Cody lifted him bodily up over the second one, and then they were in a bedroom, a different bedroom than before, light and airy with a huge vaulted ceiling. A bed was underneath him. Nick stared up at the ceiling fan as Cody pulled off his pants. Things could not get more surreal.

Someone new was asking him questions. He was on his right side, staring across a pastel comforter, and his throat was dry, and then there was water, and he tried to answer but he was half out of his head with pain. His hands and feet felt numb, and his heart pounded. He tried to concentrate on listening but the words came in and out.

" _...scar tissue...therapy..._ "

Cody's voice echoed. " _...look into..._ "

The other voice again. A doctor? " _...rest for at least two weeks...fatigue, dehydration, malnutrition...reaction to extreme stress..._ "

There was the sharp bite of a needle in his arm and he hissed in pain. More of Cody's words, a gentle touch to the side of his face.

" _...should get these prescriptions filled as soon as possible..._ "

Prescription. Painkillers. He needed his jacket. Where had he left it? In Mimi? He tried to sit up but there was only pain and then the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down, and he tried not to panic. His eyes wouldn't focus and the blur was getting worse. He was suddenly so cold that he couldn't stop shivering, and he moaned, exhaustion and fear getting the best of him. A grey fog was coming in across the water, damp and harsh, and he was frightened.

Warmth behind him, wrapping itself around him. Skin against skin. Cody's voice soothing, comforting. Warm breath on the back of his neck. The shivers began to recede, and there were words, warm, sweet words that lulled him down into the dark.

* * *

Something was off. Nick opened his eyes slowly. Cody was holding him, but that was wrong. He always held Cody. No, that wasn't right, either.

Awareness was slow in coming, but he knew he needed to get to the head. There was nothing but murk in his mind, swirling. Nick blinked again, the pressure in his bladder becoming more insistent. His limbs didn't want to respond at first, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through the confusion. _How many pills did I take? This is crazy._

He racked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell he'd done, but it was wrapped in fog, and he only managed to confuse himself more. He tried to move, but Cody's arm was locked around his waist. Something about that seemed very strange.

"Nick? What is it?" Cody's sleepy whisper made him turn his head.

"Gotta use the head," he said.

"Now?"

 _What kind of question is that?_ "Yeah, now," he mumbled. He managed to sit up, but the fog was pressing in, and it was hard to stay balanced.

Cody helped him, and Nick wondered where the pain in his hip had gone. Everything felt mystical and wreathed in light grey. _Did I overdose?_ He couldn't figure out what was happening. And then they were back in bed, and Cody was close, his warmth driving the shivers away, and sleep came for him again.

* * *

Sunlight streamed in from a skylight. Nick stared at it for a long time, trying to piece together what had happened.

He was in a bed, alone, wrapped up in slick silk sheets. Everything was white. His hip throbbed a little. Looking up, he realized that the bed had an elaborate headboard made of light-colored wood which was arranged into cabinets and shelves that were piled with books and magazines.

He felt surprisingly alert. Usually if he took enough painkillers to knock himself out, he woke feeling awful, his mouth dry, his head packed with cotton, his stomach upset. He stretched tentatively and his hip responded with an unusually strong stab of pain. _I pushed too hard yesterday._

Vaguely he remembered Del, and the bit of paper in his shirt. His paycheck? Had Kandawar paid him, even though he was late? He sat up carefully, waiting for the pain to die down.

His arms shook from the effort. _I really pushed too hard yesterday._ The room spun a little and he closed his eyes against it. When he reopened them, it was still spinning. White walls and pastel paintings and giant windows with blinds drawn wandered in lazy circles.

Cody's house. None of this made sense at all. Why the hell had Cody been at the helipad? What happened to saying goodbye forever?

The spinning finally subsided a little, and he looked for his cane. It wasn't anywhere near.

"Good morning," said Cody, coming into the room.

"Yeah," said Nick. He cleared his throat. "Morning."

"I've got some chicken soup on the stove." Cody crossed the room. His was barefoot, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt. "Hungry?"

Nick rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He was hungry, incredibly hungry, actually, and he nodded. Cody put an arm around his waist and helped him up, leading him to the bathroom.

Nick blinked in astonishment. The bathroom was huge. An enormous Jacuzzi was in one corner, with a truly hedonistic shower in another corner. Two sinks with gold fixtures and marble basins were reflected in giant mirrors accented with pale teal seashells running around the edges. The cabinets were all made out of light-colored wood, very simple and elegant. There were shelves with large fluffy white towels next to the shower. He barely remembered any of it from the night before.

"Wow," said Nick.

"It's the one nice thing about living on land," said Cody with an odd smile. He handed him his cane. "I'll be right back."

After Nick had relieved himself, he limped to the counter and found a fresh tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush in a wrapper, and brushed his teeth. The mirror showed a worn-out, haggard version of himself. Even with hours of sleep, he still had dark circles under his eyes, and he could count his ribs. He shivered, suddenly cold, and grabbed the counter, feeling faint, but Cody was already there, insinuating his arm around his waist and supporting him as he led him back to bed.

His stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything in over a day. "I thought..."

"Bed," said Cody simply. There were a few extra pillows piled up, and Cody helped him in, pulling the covers up to his chest. There was a tray on the nightstand with a bowl of soup, and the delicious scent made his mouth water, though the first bite tasted like toothpaste. He managed half the bowl before his stomach protested.

He sank back into the pillows as Cody took away the bowl and tray. Cody came back, carrying a pill and a glass of water.

The pill was a different color than the ones he usually took. He looked up at him. "Cody..."

"Doctor Lawrence prescribed it. It's a better painkiller than what you've been taking. Fewer side effects." Cody sat down on the edge of the bed. "It'll make you sleepy, but right now you need the rest."

Completely confused, Nick stared at him. "Prescription?" He vaguely remembered a doctor. "How did...I don't understand."

"While we still had the agency," said Cody, staring at the pastel comforter, "we all had medical power of attorney over each other, remember? And you never rescinded yours. I still have it."

Nick blinked. "I guess I forgot."

"Doctor Lawrence obtained your medical history—"

"What?"

"I have a friend who works at the VA hospital, and she facilitated the process," he said smoothly.

Nick stared at him, pill in one hand, glass in the other. Another abyss yawned in front of him. "Cody," he said finally, "I don't know...I think you should take me home." The thought of having to pay yet another doctor made the soup curdle in his belly. _And for a home visit, no less._

"No," said Cody simply, staring at him directly in the eyes. Nick opened his mouth to argue, but there was a flash of sorrow on Cody's face, and he felt his anger fade. "Do you have any idea what kind of shape you're in?"

"I pushed it a little, I know," said Nick. "Day on the couch with a heating pad, couple of good meals—"

"Nick, you're completely exhausted." There was a touch of fear in Cody's voice. "You need more than a couple of good meals. You're underweight—"

"Look, I lost a few pounds—"

"More than a few. You're in constant pain, you're not eating or sleeping—don't argue—and you just went through an incredibly stressful ordeal. Doctor Lawrence was astonished that you could stand, much less fly a helicopter. He thought you should be admitted to a hospital."

He wanted to argue, to point out how little they really knew, how much he needed to fly, but he yawned instead.

"Take the pill," insisted Cody. "Get a little sleep. We'll talk more later."

The ache was growing stronger, and he stared at Cody for a long moment, but then finally gave in. Cody pulled out a few of the pillows, helping him lie on his side, and then pulled the blankets up over his shoulder. The slippery cool silk made him shiver. There was the feeling of fingers lightly running through his hair, and then he was asleep.

* * *

Nick was alone when he woke up next. The light had shifted, and the room glowed golden with the long rays of the afternoon sun. He shifted in the bed a little, taking some of the pressure off his right hip.

Four thirty. He frowned. He tried to calculate how many hours he'd been out, and then he realized that it had to be Tuesday. Which meant that he had a cargo run in fourteen hours.

Mimi. He had to flush out the fuel system, clean out all of the filters, check the hoses. He calculated the time involved. If he left within the half hour, he could be done and in bed by midnight, giving him five and a half hours' sleep before the run. He sat up, and his hip protested strongly against the motion. Gritting his teeth, he reached for his cane. The room spun and he grabbed the bed with both hands, waiting for it to slow down.

He thought he could hear voices. The spinning did not stop, and he felt a little shivery.

"Making a break for it, eh?"

Nick looked up to see a guy with curly brown hair come into the room, dressed in khakis and an oxford shirt with a tie-dyed tie. He looked familiar.

"Name's Tim Lawrence. Cody introduced us yesterday, but you might not remember." He smiled and stuck out his hand, and Nick shook it, blinking heavily. "I just wanted to check on you again, Nick. May I examine you?"

"What..." He coughed. "Look, I have a doctor at the VA hospital—"

"Yes, Doctor Saunders, and she's great. I've played golf with her before." Doctor Lawrence was young and good-looking, in his early thirties, and he gave Nick a mellow smile. "Why don't you lie back? It won't take long. I just want to take a few readings."

"Look, Doc, I gotta get to the helipad—I don't have time for this right now." _Or the money._ The thought of paying for two house visits made him ill. _So much for that haircut._

Doctor Lawrence blinked. "Nick, I don't think that's a good idea. Flying—"

"Repairs," corrected Nick.

"Repairs?"

"Yeah, the filter—" There was a white-hot spike of pain in his hip, and he grimaced and clenched the comforter with both hands. He was barely aware of being guided to the pillow, and then there was a tightness on his arm, something cold on his inner elbow. _Blood pressure._ He'd sat through so many of these exams he could probably do them himself at this point. Pulse, respiration...

He felt the blankets move away, and he knew what was coming next. Doctor Lawrence prodded at his hip, checking the damage. God, he was sick of doctors, of hospitals, of the constant poking. The pain intensified, and he heard him explaining something about scar tissue and therapy, and Cody's answering murmur, and then the agony built until it was an intense wave, blotting out everything else.

When he surfaced, the sunlight was longer, and the clock read five thirty. Cody was sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching him.

Nick struggled to get up, and Cody looked alarmed. "Nick, what's wrong?" He slid closer.

"Gotta get to Hawthorne," mumbled Nick. He was so tired, but he knew he could get the work done, maybe even by midnight, and with just a few hours' sleep he'd be okay.

"No, you don't," said Cody soothingly. He put a hand on Nick's arm, exerting a little pressure.

Nick growled. "I don't have time—gotta—"

Cody looked bemused. "You really think you're going to fix the Mimi tonight?"

"Cargo run at six—Cody, don't do this, man, I gotta get there. Del..." The thought of being fired by Del was nearly more than he could bear. There was only one kind of job left: the illegal ones. Drug running and human cargo. He'd die before he'd take those.

"I talked to Del already. He's canceled all of your jobs for the next two weeks."

First Nick stared at him. Then he swore. Then he started to panic.

Rent. Food. Haircut. He struggled to get up, but it was a losing battle, and he swore again as his hip betrayed him and he fell panting to the bed. "No," he choked out.

"Stop, Nick," said Cody, sounding scared. "I went to your apartment, I paid your landlord. You're okay, Nick, it's all taken care of."

"Cody, I can't..." The frustration was there, but he knew better than to let it swamp him. He took a long, slow breath, and then another. "I can't afford this doctor. I gotta cash Del's check..." He frowned. "He did give me a check, right?"

"Yes," said Cody. "I've got your check. And I grabbed some of your clothes and essentials—"

"You went in my apartment?" His brain felt like it was auto-rotating. "What...why?"

"Because you're staying with me, and you'll need clothes." Cody's gaze was level, and there was no room for argument in his tone.

Nick couldn't help but argue anyway. "I can't—Cody, I have to fix Mimi—"

"She can wait."

"Cody," said Nick, starting to feel desperate. "You don't get it. My savings account—I don't have anything. I need to cash Del's check and..." He leaned forward a little, trying to get him to understand, and a jolt of pain rushed through his hip. Hissing, he closed his eyes.

"I _do_ get it," said Cody softly. "You need some help. I'm in a position to help you. I'll pay all of Tim's—Doctor Lawrence's bills, and I'll keep up your rent and whatever bills you have as well."

"I don't need—"

"Nick, listen to me." Cody's voice was insistent. "You're just fooling yourself if you think you're going to get up and go fix—much less fly—a helicopter. Doctor Lawrence said that your hip's in bad shape and you need to stay off it as much as possible for at least a week, minimum. He was adamant about it. You should be in a rehab facility, honestly. There's swelling and he's worried about internal scarring and..." He heard Cody take a controlled breath. "You're staying with me, and I'm going to take care of you until you're back on your feet again. That's final."

He opened his eyes to see Cody looking at him with a stubborn expression on his face. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes, but then it faded.

"Cody, I can't afford—"

"Money is the least of your concerns right now." Cody stared at him for another heartbeat, and then got up. "I've got some more soup..."

His stomach lurched. "No—no thanks. Cody, wait, listen to me—"

"This isn't a negotiation," said Cody firmly. "You're staying with me, and you're going to rest."

"Mimi—"

"No." Cody crossed his arms over his chest. "Absolutely not. Del's towed her into a hangar and she's going to stay there until you're better."

 _Better._ Nick exhaled. "Cody, this is as good as it gets. I've had therapy, and I've seen doctors, and this is it."

"No, this isn't it." Cody glowered at him. "You've pushed yourself too hard and you're paying the price. If you keep up this level of activity, you could cripple yourself further."

"You can't fix it."

"No, I can't. But I can at least help you heal some of the damage. Which is exactly what I'm going to do." Cody left the room and returned with a glass of water and another pill.

Anger rose inside of him, but then faded. _Pills. Again._ "Cody, I don't want..."

"I trust Doctor Lawrence," said Cody. "These are addictive, yes, but you're only going to take them for a few days. Right now you need to sleep as much as possible and you need to stop hurting so much. Fighting the pain isn't healthy. It wears you out."

"Where—"

"I threw them away," said Cody, handing him the pill. "Take it, Nick, and get some sleep." The look on his face softened. "Please."

Nick could make this into a battle of wills, stare him down, get his cane and leave. Call Tammi. But there was something in Cody's eyes, a pleading note, just a hint of vulnerability, and he finally reached out and put the pill in his mouth and accepted the water. Cody looked relieved, and helped him lie down, and then sleep claimed him.

* * *

When Nick woke next, Cody was there, hovering, helping him to the bathroom and back into bed. Soup, and bread, and water. Nick was so tired he could barely think straight, which made no sense, because he'd slept more in the past two days than he usually did in a week. He settled back into the bed with a sigh, the ache in his hip painful but tolerable, and fell back asleep.

The dream crept up on him unexpectedly, and suddenly he was in the air, unfamiliar controls in his hands as the chopper lost altitude and the engine failed. He cursed and tried to auto-rotate but it was too far gone. There was a horrible crunch of metal and glass, and he felt himself falling.

He knew what was next. He tried to twist away from it but there was no escape. Pain, white-hot, his entire side searing in agony as he struck the rocks, breath caught in his throat. The air was cold and harsh, and again he was trapped, dying, with no one to find him, alone on the side of a hill, the ruins of the chopper smoldering. He dragged himself away, inch by agonizing inch, trying to escape the debris that kept raining down the hill, desperate to stay alive. Another wave of pain, this one a hundred times worse, and he was so scared, scared he'd never walk again, scared that no one would find him, scared that he was going to die there—

"Nick!"

He could hear someone shouting from a great distance away, and then the barren hillside shimmered and faded, and suddenly he was in a dark room, tangled in slippery sheets. Cody had him by the arms, calling his name over and over again. He tried to answer but could barely manage a croaking sound. His face was wet with tears, and he clutched at Cody, pulling himself close.

At first Cody didn't react, but then he felt arms around him, and he started trembling, a deep-rooted trembling that went all the way down to his core. For a long moment they sat there together, Nick's heart hammering against his ribs, and then the stress began to wash away. Pain that he'd ignored came back, his hip a throbbing aching mess, and Cody lowered him carefully to the bed.

"Sorry," said Nick roughly. "Nightmare. I...it's been a while." He took a few calming breaths.

"It sounded pretty bad," said Cody. In the dim light he couldn't quite make out the expression on Cody's face. "I couldn't get you to wake up."

Nick lay still for a few heartbeats. "I used to have...the same dream while I was in the hospital." He tried to get comfortable, but it hurt too much. "In the rehab wing, too, but not since."

"You called for me." Cody sounded shaken.

"Yeah, I'm sure I did." He found a box of tissues on one of the shelves, and wiped his eyes. "The nurses at the hospital all thought you were an estranged brother or something. Said I asked for you after I came out of surgery." He wadded up the tissue and put it on a shelf in the headboard. "Then again, I asked for my mom, too, and she's been dead for nearly thirty years."

"Eric said you'd—there was a crash—"

"One of the pilots I knew got sick, and asked me to make a run for him, in a rental chopper." Nick tried to shift into a more comfortable position. "I wanted to take Mimi, but she wasn't fast enough for the trip. I had a bad feeling about it, but the guy he was working for was desperate, needed to get something to Point Mugu and quick." He exhaled. "Wrong place, wrong time. I tripped the emergency beacon but I didn't even know if it worked. And then I hit, and it was..."

Cody lay down next to him, and this time there was no spicy cologne, just the natural scent of him that Nick remembered only too well. "Nick, have you ever spoken to someone about this?"

Nick stared at him and then snorted with suppressed laughter. "What do you think? After you crash a helo, everyone wants to talk to you. Besides the FAA, there was the social worker at the VA, and a couple other strangers, too, who thought they could fix me."

"Nick—"

"You know what fixed me? Getting back in the Mimi. Six months ago I flew again, and it was the best day I'd had since the day before the accident. And I haven't had the dream since." That it had come back was troubling, but he hoped it was just a reaction to what had just happened, to having the same scare in the Mimi. _She didn't let me down, though. She got me home._ He felt a surge of affection for her.

"Maybe you should rethink flying," said Cody cautiously.

"Maybe you should rethink breathing," retorted Nick immediately. There was an uncomfortable silence, and then he exhaled. "Look, I'm sorry, Cody, but flying's...it's all I have. I can't give it up. I mean, yeah, I could take disability, maybe, but it wouldn't be enough, and I can't work construction, not like this, and...Cody, it's just...I can't." He shuddered.

There was a light touch on his arm, and he knew without words that it was Cody's apology. Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Morning. Sun. Nick blinked and groaned. A little stretching, and he came awake fully. Cody was nowhere to be seen, and the clock read that it was after ten.

Getting up, he made his way slowly to the bathroom, marveling again at its size. He really wanted to take a shower or at least shave but he didn't think he could stand long enough at the moment, so he brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face. Limping out to the living room, he found Cody watching This Old House on a TV screen that was as big as Mimi's windshield.

"Morning," said Nick.

"Good morning." Cody looked a little tired. He had on the same jeans and t-shirt from yesterday, which was surprising. Nick didn't think he'd ever seen Cody repeat an outfit two days in a row. "There's some soup..."

"I don't..." He trailed off, surprised by the worry that flashed across Cody's face. "Sure, a bowl of soup'd be great. But maybe some clothes, first..."

Cody blushed, and disappeared into the bedroom. Nick had just made it to the couch when he reappeared with a blanket, which he wrapped around him.

"A blanket?" said Nick in disbelief. "What, you think I'm a flight risk or something?"

Cody smiled a quick smile, and helped him sit down before taking off in the direction of the kitchen. A cup of soup and some bread later, Nick felt a little better, though his hip was already protesting at sitting on the bastard couch. He watched without much interest as the show's host took apart a window frame.

"Are you okay?" Cody looked at him intently. "Do you need a pill?"

"No, I'm fine," said Nick, too quickly, and sighed as Cody leapt up and came back with a glass of water. It was a different pill this time, and he looked up at him.

"This one won't make you as sleepy," said Cody.

"You got a regular pharmacy here, huh?" Nick took it and drank half the water, setting the glass on the table. Leaning back, he grimaced as he slid a little forward.

"Here," said Cody. "Lie down." He put a few pillows down, one against his thigh, and Nick hesitated for a moment but then pulled his legs up onto the couch, hissing a little. The couch was firmer than the bed, and after a few adjustments he was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he could get. Cody leaned over, tucking the blanket in around him.

On the show they'd progressed into a discussion about dry rot. Nick was aware of Cody's warm hand on the back of his neck, fingertips lightly rubbing, and he sighed. Cody had magical hands, able to soothe even the worst of kinks. His massage therapist had never even come close. It felt so good to lie there, the hand dipping lower, tracing his shoulderblade.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched. It had to have been Kathy, and that had been three months ago, and fleeting.

There was a knock at the door, and he jumped a little, shooting pain running through his hip. Cody didn't move, but looked toward the front door when he heard the jingle of keys in the lock.

"Must be my assistant," he said.

"Mr. Allen?" a young woman called out. "Mr. Allen? Are you here?"

"In the living room," replied Cody. Nick automatically went to sit up, but Cody's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, keeping him down. "Nick, it's okay, just stay still."

"I've been calling and calling—" She sounded on the verge of hysterics. She came into view, wearing black pants and a fitted shiny blue blouse, her long dirty blonde hair gathered in a ponytail. "Oh, I didn't know you had company!" She put her hand over her mouth. She couldn't have been a day over twenty-one.

"Michele, this is Nick Ryder," said Cody. "Nick, this is Michele, my personal assistant. Nick will be staying with me for a couple weeks."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't realize—I just—you were supposed to be on the flight, and then they called me and said you weren't, and I couldn't find you and I got scared. I called Derek and he had no idea where you were, and then I saw that you were home but you didn't answer any of my calls—" She choked off a sob, and Nick had the oddest feeling that she had thought something awful had happened to Cody. Or that Cody had been thinking about doing something awful to himself.

"It's okay," said Cody soothingly. "I'm fine, really, and I've just been busy, that's all."

She looked at him, her expression uncertain, and looked at Nick, and then back at him. _Now this is awkward._ He realized he was still tensing to sit up, and Cody's hand was still holding him in place.

"Nick's an old friend." Cody sounded calm, completely in control. "He's a helicopter pilot, and he's been in an accident, and he's going to recuperate here."

"Helicopter pilot?" she said, her eyebrows raising.

Cody nodded. "He has a hip injury, so he won't be up and around much."

"So...this is why you didn't get on the plane?" She blinked.

He nodded again. "It's okay, Michele. I wasn't really sure I wanted to go anyway."

"Did you at least call the resort and cancel?" she said, suddenly sounding business-like. "And you can probably get a refund for the return trip. I'm sure I can talk to the agent and—"

"Look, it's a great idea," said Cody, putting up his hand to stop her. "If you'd like to spend an hour in the office and take care of those two things, that's fine, but I'd rather see you go out and enjoy your own vacation."

"Oh yes, and then I can work on the Lassiter account—"

"No, Michele." Cody sighed. "Doctor Lawrence will be here later, and there's some therapy for Mr. Ryder—"

"Nick," he corrected.

"—and you should really just go out to the beach and enjoy yourself. Get a nice tan. Flirt with some boys." He smiled at her, and she looked so disappointed that Nick almost laughed out loud. _Another victim of Cody's personal charm. Join the club._

"The Lassiters—"

"Michele." Cody gave her his most dazzling grin. "There's no work for you here this week." His hand was warm on Nick's shoulder.

"Okay, then, I'll just work on canceling the resort reservation and seeing about the refund—" She disappeared.

"I'll have to go get her at the end of the hour," he said ruefully. "She'll sit in the office forever if I let her. She's pretty committed."

"Good help is hard to find." Nick felt loopy and a little cold. His right hip was beginning to bother him as well, probably from lying on it so much over the past few days, and he wished that Cody had comfortable furniture. He tried to concentrate on what was on the TV, something about window panes and repainting, but the show faded into nothingness and he slept, a light, unsatisfying nap full of strange images.

A loud knocking at the front door woke him. He sat up stiffly, rubbing his eyes. He heard the door shut, and an unfamiliar voice talking to Cody, saying something about tennis plans. "I guess I forgot that you were on vacation, amigo," said the good-looking guy who was now walking into the living room, trailed by Cody.

"We'll just reschedule for next week." Something in Cody's manner suggested that he wasn't happy about this visit.

"Oh, you have company!" The visitor smiled, showing beautiful white teeth. He didn't seem surprised. He wore a tight black t-shirt and a pair of black and white shorts with tribal patterns, and his dark hair was stylish. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Derek, Cody's business partner." He showed no sign of putting his hand out to shake.

"Nick." He gave him a nod.

Cody gave Derek a look and said, "He's more of a consultant."

"Nick, huh?" asked Derek. His eyes raked over Nick. "So, Cody, you're bringing home strays now?" He grinned at his own joke.

Two years ago, Nick would have punched him right in the face. Now, though, he knew better. "The pound's better than a shark tank," he said, giving him a grin of his own.

Derek's eyebrows raised, and his grin grew wider. "Oh, so he _bites_."

"Derek, stop it." Cody sounded irritated. "He's my friend. Leave him alone."

"Keep your pants on, I'm just kidding." Derek flopped down on the bastard couch right next to Nick, causing it to move, and Nick tried not to let the discomfort show. "Wait—are you the helicopter pilot?"

"I fly a chopper, yeah."

"So you're the one he knew in 'Nam." Derek looked at him, dark brown eyes curious. There was a hint of cunning in his face and Nick felt an immediate flash of dislike.

"He knew a lot of people in 'Nam."

Derek leaned toward him, his eyes knowing. "Yeah. But how many of them would he take in off the street?"

"Probably every single one." Nick met his gaze.

"Clearly you don't know him that well anymore." Derek got up again and walked across the room to look at the art above the fireplace. "What do you think of this painting, Nick? Isn't it amazing? I love this. It's no Franz Kline, but there is an energy, a timeless component that I find quite irresistible."

 _So. Dog, homeless crazy 'Nam bum, and now ignorant hick._ "Looks like something a five year old could make." His hip throbbed dully.

"Derek," said Cody in a low warning tone.

"I'm just conversing with your guest," said Derek brightly. "It's great that you have a new—er—old friend. I mean, now that he's here, we'll have a new wingman for the bar scene. I'll bet he's up for Jell-O shots. He'll be quite the draw at Florentine Gardens."

Two years ago Nick would have pounded him into mincemeat. Instead, he started laughing. Cody turned to look at him, surprised. Nick smiled his toothiest smile. "Look, you want to stand around and insult a cripple all day long, that's your business. I've got better things to do. Like sleep."

Derek gave him a bland look that seemed studied. "Sleep. Well, I suppose everyone has to have a purpose." He stretched and yawned. "Too bad about the tennis. I was looking forward to crushing you again, Cody." He gave another grin and then walked out. The front door slammed shut behind him.

Nick gave Cody a questioning look.

Cody sighed. "Derek's just...Derek. He's the son of one of King Harbor's biggest businessmen, and he helped me out a lot when I was starting my business." He raked a hand through his hair. "He was also Jake's best friend."

Nick got up carefully, and grabbed his cane. _Jake's best friend._ That explained a lot. Cody's arm was around him in a second, and he was grateful for the support. Cody steered him to a closer bathroom, the one adjoining the guest bedroom, and then left him alone.

When Nick reemerged, the painting above the fireplace was gone.

* * *

Doctor Lawrence's visit was longer, though not quite as painful. Nick answered his questions as best as he could, and watched as he scribbled notes on a chart. In addition to the usual exam, he took a small sample of blood, and also checked his ears and nose and throat. He left and then Nick heard voices in the kitchen, Cody's sounding worried.

He sat up on the couch. Cody still hadn't given him clothes, and he wrapped the blanket around himself a little more tightly. The giant TV was off, its black shiny screen reflecting the rest of the room. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"How about some time in the Jacuzzi?" asked Cody.

Nick looked up at him. Cody's expression was one of determination, and though he was smiling, Nick could sense that there was something bothering him. "Sure," he said. Cody helped him up, and they made it to the master bathroom. Nick leaned on the sink as Cody turned on the water to the Jacuzzi and checked the temperature. "So what did the doc say?"

"He said you need a lot of work."

Nick couldn't see his expression. "Me and the Mimi both," he said, and his mind immediately wandered to replacing hoses and filters and cleaning the fuel system.

"You need to rest, still, and you need to regain some weight. The good news is that the swelling seems to have gone down, so we can apply heat to your hip now."

Heating pads had been a way of life for him for the past year. "Sounds good." He looked over his shoulder, checking his reflection in the mirror again. _I really need to shave._

"Okay, you can get in." After helping him strip off his underwear, Cody supported him as he climbed the steps on the side and then lowered into the water. It was absolutely fantastic. He moaned as he sank into the heat. Getting comfortable, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The jets were soothing, and the warmth penetrated to his bones.

He heard the sound of something small and metal hitting the floor, and he reopened his eyes to see Cody's jeans on the marble tile, and then Cody, completely naked, getting into the Jacuzzi.

He would never have thought it possible, but Cody looked even more gorgeous than he had when they'd been together. His tan was a glowing bronze, no lines in sight, and his muscles were even more sculpted and beautifully defined. His shoulders, the long lines of his torso, his legs—everything was golden and absolutely perfect. The few scars from their time in the agency had faded, and he looked like an Adonis come down to earth.

Nick inhaled sharply and began to cough.

"Are you okay?"

Cody was right in front of him, hand on his arm, and Nick nodded, catching his breath. When he was finally able to speak again, he said, "Great tub."

"I don't use it that much," said Cody. "Jake was more into it. But it comes in handy sometimes." He sat down in the opposite end of the Jacuzzi, his feet hesitantly entwining with Nick's. "He took forever picking it out. We had to go to fourteen different spa dealers..."

Nick tried to suppress the flare of jealousy and anger that surfaced when hearing Jake's name. _All water under the bridge now._ It dissipated and he sighed and closed his eyes again. The heat of the water was absolutely delicious, and he felt himself relaxing, felt the action of the jets begin to untangle some of the knots in his back and leg. With his hip so screwed up, sometimes the other leg had to work even harder, and he was still trying to loosen the tension from previous days.

Cody's voice sounded amused. "Don't fall asleep."

"Mmmh." Nick lay like that for a moment longer, and then reopened his eyes and ducked his head under the water. It was good to take a bath. His apartment just had a shower, and he'd only been able to stand under the water for so long, so this was a rare treat. He came up and wiped his eyes.

Cody was staring at him, a pensive look on his face. "You should have called me."

"Called you?"

"When you...after the accident. I didn't know."

"Yeah, that would have been a treat. 'Hey, I just had hip surgery and I might lose my pilot's license and I don't know if I'll ever walk again. So how're things with you?'" He shook his head. "Not a good idea."

"I could have helped."

"The last thing I wanted to see was you. Believe me." Nick exhaled.

"You didn't have to be alone."

"I wasn't alone. Tammi and Eric helped out, and so did Arnie, and even Mama Jo before she went to live with her sister. Doc Harris was there, too. He visited almost every day in the beginning." Until he'd died of cancer, but Nick didn't feel like pointing that out at the moment.

"I would have—"

"Cody, man, why are you bringing this up now?" Nick slicked his hair back with his hand. "At the time, I thought you were with Jake, happy, with everything you ever wanted. Why crash that party?"

Cody's face colored. "That wasn't—" He suddenly looked down at the frothing water.

"That wasn't what?" asked Nick, perplexed.

"Never mind." Cody scratched at his neck, the way he always did when he wanted to change the subject.

 _Fine with me._ "Look, any chance I can wash my hair?"

"Sure, but not with the jets going. I've had to clean up extreme foaming action before." He reached for the switch on the wall, his rib cage and chest twisting smoothly, his abs flexing as he rose out of the water slightly. The jets stopped, which meant, of course, that there was no froth to hide under any longer. Which wasn't a problem for Nick. Not after months in the health care system, where a body was meant to be examined and poked and prodded every other minute of the day. He had no self-consciousness left in that department. But Cody flushed and turned his eyes away from him, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and handing it to him, and then got out and toweled off with his back to Nick.

The shampoo felt wonderful. He'd never properly rinsed his hair the last time he'd washed it, and it was a relief to finally have clean hair. He ducked under the water a few times, enjoying the heat and the feeling of weightlessness. When he was squeaky clean, he surfaced, and found towels waiting for him but no Cody.

Sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi, he dried off his hair first, and then his arms and chest. The bathroom windows were positioned high, but he could still see the green of trees and the darkening blue sky. _Nice weather for flying._ He sighed and carefully maneuvered himself on the edge, pulling his good leg out of the water and then swiveling to pull his bad leg out. Pain sparked in his hip, but he ignored it. Toweling off his legs as best as possible, he heard the door open again, and Cody came in, wearing a white bathrobe.

"Nick—damnit!"

Nick looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"You're supposed to take it easy. You should have called for me." Cody wrapped another white robe around him and glared at him as he tied it closed.

"Look, I've gotten by on my own for months—"

"You're more stubborn than ever." Cody leaned forward and wound an arm around his waist, helping him to his feet. His tone grew soft. "Please, Nick, let me help you." His hip twinged again, and he let Cody take more of his weight. "That's right, Nick, just let me do it."

By the time they reached the bed, Nick was exhausted. _Where the hell did my stamina go? I can barely stand for more than a few minutes._ "Tired of being in bed," he mumbled.

"Right now it's what you need, buddy." Cody pulled off the bathrobe and tucked him in. The sheets were warm and soft, and he realized that Cody had changed them to cotton. Maybe even just taken them out of the dryer, they were so warm. He yawned. Cody touched his shoulder lightly. "Just take a nap, okay? Relax."

The ring of the phone woke him up. Looking out the window, he noticed the long rays of sunshine hitting the back fence; barely an hour had passed. _Short nap_. His stomach growled, and he realized how hungry he was.

He pulled on the robe and grabbed his cane. His hip felt a little better, and he limped toward the kitchen until he heard someone talking. For a moment he stood at the entrance to a hallway, thinking he should give Cody his privacy, but then he heard his name, and he couldn't help it. He took a few steps down the hall, past a room containing gym equipment. He could just make out Cody's voice.

"...and I called Tim. Tim Lawrence. Yeah, the doctor who was in the league with Eric." There was a long pause, and then Nick realized he was talking on the phone. "Tim thought he should go to the hospital." Another pause. "Well, when I first went up into the Mimi, and I saw him—god, Tammi, you have no idea. He looked...I just...I mean, when I saw him at the party I didn't recognize him at first, but this...he was..." Pause. "Yeah. I almost called 911."

Nick leaned against the wall and listened further.

"He's so worn out. Tim said he's seen homeless in better shape. No, really, those were his exact words." Pause. "Everything you can imagine. I don't even know what he could have been eating—I've never seen emptier cabinets in my life than the ones at his apartment. There wasn't anything except salt and a bottle of mustard." Pause. "It's not just the weight. He was a little dehydrated, but the fatigue is terrible. He's done almost nothing but sleep since he..." Pause. "C'mon, Tammi, you know I'm not blaming you for anything. He's been flying, which he probably shouldn't, and this last trip...seven hours straight in the air, and at the end there was a problem with bad fuel—yes, bad fuel, and I can't even imagine what he was thinking while he was flying that last hour."

There was a creak and Nick heard him exhale. "I took him straight home, but it was awful. I really thought..." He heard him take in another breath. "I thought I was going to lose him. And he's so _frail_ right now—" Pause. "Tammi, wait, I know he's gone through a lot...I can imagine—" There was a very long pause. "Yeah, I know how strong he is on the inside. I really do. But on the outside, he's a wreck. Tim said that there's probably some internal scarring, that there might be some bone fragments floating around, and he's in a lot of pain." Pause. "Well, of course that was obvious. He's got him on some stronger painkillers right now, and he'll step them down in another week, after he heals a little." Pause. "The best we can expect right now is baby steps. He's been living off nothing for so long, and he's been in so much pain...he's not going to bounce back immediately."

Nick's hip began to throb, and he shifted a little. _So Tammi's checking up on me. Sweet girl._ Without her and Eric's support, he probably wouldn't have made it through the first few months alone after coming back from the rehab wing. She'd brought him groceries and casseroles, and Eric had helped him find the Datsun and moved furniture into his apartment.

"No, I have no idea." Cody sighed. "I told him he had to stay here until he was better." Pause. "Look, I don't know. I want to do more but I don't know if he'll let me." There was a very long pause, and then he said quietly, "I don't...I don't know." There was another pause. "Yeah. Thanks for calling, Tammi. Maybe you and Eric could come over for dinner soon?" Pause. "Okay, sounds good. Talk to you soon. Bye." There was another creak and the sound of a phone being hung up.

Nick pushed himself off the wall and took a step forward, coming to a stop in front of an open doorway. It was a large home office with a huge glass desk and several sleek filing cabinets, and a smaller, matching desk off to one side, complete with computer and fax machine. Cody was behind the larger desk, hand still on the phone, and he looked up at him.

"Hey," said Nick. "Any chance of getting some soup?"

Cody blinked, frozen for a moment, but then he got up. "C'mon," he said, not meeting his eyes. "I'll heat some up in the kitchen." One arm curled around his waist, and they walked back down the hallway. They passed a formal dining room with black metal chairs and a glass table, and then they came into the kitchen, with white wooden floors and a smaller glass table against the low wall that separated it from the living room. All of the appliances were white, and copper pots and pans hung tantalizingly from a rack over a white island. A professional grade gas stove and twin wall ovens were next to the refrigerator. A large wine rack with an impressive array of bottles stood against one wall. Cody parked him at a small table and opened the fridge, pulling out a saucepot, putting it on a burner and turning a knob.

He took two crystal glasses from a cabinet and filled them with water and ice cubes from a built-in panel on the fridge. Setting one down in front of Nick, he took a long drink from the other and then went back to the fridge and refilled it. He sat down across from him. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough," said Nick, fingering the glass. "Cody, I really..." He frowned. "I'm sorry, man, I really am. I didn't mean to disrupt your life like this. It's not fair for you to drop everything and..."

"Stop right there." Cody gazed at him levelly. "I'm supposed to be in Acapulco right now for a week. It was a spur of the moment thing, and I was talked into it by Michele, honestly, and I wasn't even sure I wanted to go. Then when I was driving to LAX I couldn't stop thinking about you and I picked you up instead. That was my choice, and I don't regret it at all."

Nick stared at his glass. "Sorry to ruin your vacation. Look, why don't you just—"

"If you're about to ask me to take you back to your apartment, save your breath." Cody took another drink, the ice cubes shifting and chiming in his glass.

"Why?" asked Nick, looking him in the eye. "Why are you doing this?"

Cody hesitated. He looked off through the kitchen window, then back down at the table. "I don't know," he said finally. "I just can't—not."

 _This situation is making my head hurt._ Nick massaged his temples for a second and sighed. "Thanks." Leaning back carefully in his chair, he adjusted the position of his leg.

Cody got up and pulled a wooden spoon out of a drawer. Stirring the soup, he fiddled with the temperature, and then sat back down. "Nick, I think you should really think about what you're going to do next—"

"What?" Nick stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell do you think I've been doing, drinking beer and shooting off firecrackers in the backyard? I know exactly what I have to do. I have to get to Mimi as soon as possible and fix her. Then I have to hope like hell that Del hasn't given away my—"

"Nick, I know how much you like flying." He held up a hand to forestall Nick's next outburst. "I get it. Really. But there comes a time when you have to realize that it just isn't in the cards any longer."

"Is that what you did?" asked Nick with a bit of heat. "Scrapped the _Riptide_ and went for real estate instead? Got fitted for a suit and dropped the rest?"

"What else was I supposed to do? You were gone, and I couldn't even—I didn't even want to look at—damnit, you left!"

"Of course I left." Nick barked out a laugh. "What did you expect me to do, stick around so I could watch the two of you get it on in the salon?"

Cody grew very still. "I swear to you, we did nothing together until after you left me. _I was not with Jake while I was with you._ "

"You can say that to me with a straight face?" Nick leaned forward, incredulous, ignoring the flash of pain in his hip.

"Nick." Cody looked him in the eye. "I was attracted to him, yes. But attraction isn't cheating. I was with you. Jake was a good friend, but nothing more."

"You were barely home," said Nick tightly. "And everyone I knew told me how you were hitting the clubs with him—"

" _You_ were the one who was barely home." Cody looked angry. "You were gone, sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes for three days. When you were home, you wouldn't talk to me."

"You were with Jake," said Nick. " _You were with Jake_."

"What does it take to get through to you?" shouted Cody. He slammed his fist on the table and Nick jumped, surprised. "You wouldn't talk to me, Nick! And you kept disappearing! Is that how you think a relationship works? People are supposed to talk to each other. Instead, you'd go out and wander the streets or god knows what. Every time I woke up and you weren't next to me, it hurt. So I went out and had a few drinks with Jake. That sure as hell didn't mean I was screwing him."

"I thought—"

"You didn't think." Cody's voice was harsh. "You were wrapped up in yourself, and then you dumped me. _You_ dumped _me._ Jake was a good guy, a really good guy, and he wouldn't even touch me until months had passed and I'd stopped—" He closed his mouth with a snap.

Nick's chest was tight, and his eyes burned. "Cody, I..."

"I'm sorry would be a good start," said Cody quietly.

"I'm sorry." Nick wiped his eyes. "Look, it was just...I was really messed up."

"You'll get no argument from me."

"My dad was dying, and he..." Surprise flashed across Cody's face. Nick took a deep breath. "He had cancer, and he was...he had no one else. And I hated him so much, but there was nobody else. The hospital—he was up at King, and the nurses, they hated him, he was such an asshole, and he was broke...I couldn't walk away. Even after what he did to my mom. And I couldn't tell you. I knew you'd want to—to go there with me, and help, and I just didn't...I didn't want him to..." He wiped his eyes again. "He fucked up everything for me, my whole life. And I didn't want him to fuck us up, too." He shuddered. "But I guess I kind of let him. Cody, I'm so sorry, I'm—" Cody pulled him close, and he was pressed up against the soft cotton of his robe, and he cried, his hands clutching at the fabric. He could hear Cody murmuring things, about how it was okay now, even though it wasn't. Cody stroked his hair and let him cry until the choking sobs died down, but he didn't let go, not until the soup boiled over.

Once Cody got it under control, he dished out a bowl for Nick, along with bread and more water. Nick ate slowly, and Cody watched, though his eyes were far away.

Guilt ate at him. _He was always with Jake. How was I supposed to know? And I had my hands full. And the Mehti case..._ He dropped the spoon into the soup and leaned back, wincing at the pain in his hip. He shifted slightly to the side, but another jolt went through him, and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain like he usually did.

"Nick," said Cody, and Nick reopened his eyes to find that Cody was opening a bottle of pills. He put one in Nick's hand and held up the glass of water.

Nick took the hint.

The walk back was slow, and his hip twinged with every step, but it paled in comparison to the emotion inside of him. _All these years I thought I'd done the smart thing._ He grimaced. _I should have trusted him. I should have told him._ Realistically, though, he knew that it had all been too much at the time, the Mehti case crushing them all, their relationship just caught in the crossfire. Cody helped him get in bed, pulling the covers up around him, and Nick looked up at him. A few pale threads of grey at his temples caught the light from the bedside lamp. "I'm sorry," he said, grabbing Cody's hand.

"Me too," said Cody softly. He turned out the light and left the room, leaving Nick in the dark with his thoughts.

* * *

Nick managed to get one whole side of his face shaved before Cody discovered him and nearly had kittens. "I have to shave the other side," insisted Nick, and Cody didn't look thrilled but finally agreed, helping to hold him steady. Which was a good thing, because his legs were already starting to shake. He finished and rinsed off, getting Cody wet in the process.

This time Cody gave him some clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt, and thick socks. Definitely not his own socks, because they didn't have any oil stains on them. They ate in the kitchen, scrambled eggs and toast, and Nick realized that he'd forgotten how much he liked Cody's scrambled eggs. Fluffy and perfect. He sat back, contented, running a hand over his cheek and delighting in the fact that the itchy stubble was gone.

The doorbell rang, and it turned out to be Derek again, who didn't even look at Nick, just insisted on talking to Cody "in private." Nick limped to the couch in the living room and lay down, staring at the bewildering assortment of remotes on the coffee table and deciding to forego watching TV. Pleasantly sated, he stared at the blank spot above the fireplace and wondered what Cody had done with the painting.

He heard raised voices coming from Cody's office, and frowned. A door was yanked open, and he sat up just in time to see Derek storm out. He heard the front door slam shut.

Cody sat down on the couch next to him, his expression difficult to interpret. "Everything okay?" ventured Nick.

Troubled blue eyes looked at him. "I don't know."

"What's up?"

"I told you that Derek was a business associate. When I first needed contacts, he helped me out. A lot." Cody looked down at his knees. "We went to a lot of parties. He introduced me to a lot of his father's friends. Without him, I never would've broken into the real estate game so easily and had so much success."

"What does he want?"

Cody looked up at him sharply, and then went back to staring at his knees. "He wants me to...it's hard to explain."

"But it's illegal."

Cody winced. "Not exactly. But it's shady."

"So don't."

"He's got a lot of pull. So does his father. If he starts badmouthing me to my clients..." Cody visibly tensed.

"You're a good guy," said Nick. "If you let him do this to you, you won't be a good guy any longer. So he tries to slime you a little. Most people will know you're honest. In fact, if he's as slimy as he looks, you'll probably get more business from people who know what a creep he is."

"He's not a creep—" protested Cody.

"Fine, whatever you say." Nick kept his tone neutral. "But anybody who asks you to do something shady and threatens you if you don't...well, they're not exactly Mother Theresa."

Cody leaned his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

"Look, I'm sorry. I should stay out of your business."

Cody looked at him sharply. "No, Nick, that's not...I'm listening. Really."

The bastard couch was getting to him, and he moved a little, trying for a more comfortable angle. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to exist. "So how about a game of cards?" asked Nick.

Cody blinked, but then smiled. "Sure."

At the kitchen table they played gin rummy for points, and Cody beat him by a wide margin. In the past they'd always been pretty equally matched, but this time Nick was woozy from the painkillers and missed a couple—okay, several—key plays. He finally admitted defeat and leaned back in the chair, laying one hand gingerly on his hip.

"C'mon," said Cody, helping him up. Nick stumbled a little on the way to the bedroom, and Cody helped him lie down on his right side. He yawned, flexing his toes. He heard Cody leave the room, but the light stayed on. He mentally shrugged. _I think I'm tired enough to fall asleep in broad daylight._

He reached for the covers, and heard Cody come back in the room. "Can you get the light?" he asked.

"Not just yet. Move over a little."

Mystified, Nick did, and then Cody sat down next to him and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. "Cody, what—"

"Relax." Cody moved them down a little, exposing his bad hip.

Nick tensed. It was one thing to be naked, but it was another thing entirely to have the ugly mess bared for close scrutiny. "Hey—"

And then he felt hot oil sluicing over his skin. Cody's fingertips slid smoothly across, not digging in or hurting, just gliding gently, and Nick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Please, Nick, just relax," murmured Cody.

Cody's hands began to rub, very lightly, just a bit of pressure. More hot oil, and then clever fingertips began to probe for tension. His touch was so delicate that Nick could barely feel it, but once Cody figured out where the stress was, he began to exert a little pressure, kneading carefully.

Nick breathed a moan of sheer pleasure and let himself sink into the bed. The massage therapist had been good, but the massage had also been painful, almost unbearable. This was like a cloud, light and wonderful, with only the occasional shock of pain, and after a few of those, Cody seemed to figure out how to mostly avoid them. "Man, this's amazing," mumbled Nick. "Mmm."

"Shh," said Cody.

It was heavenly. It felt so much better than anything had in months. He sighed in happiness. The delicious warmth of the oil, the motions of Cody's fingers, the drowsy fog of the painkillers; it all melted together into a pleasant haze.

Cody's fingers pressed on a particularly tender area, and Nick winced. "Sorry," said Cody quietly.

"'Sokay." He could barely keep his eyes open. Cody was using long, light touches now, and within moments he felt sleep claim him.

* * *

Nick woke from a 'Nam dream, a rough one that left him gasping and clutching at the sheets. For a long moment he lay there, having to convince himself that he wasn't flying over the jungle taking heavy fire. Eventually the feelings faded.

He stretched a little, hesitantly, and an all too familiar spike of pain flared in his hip. Cody's massage had been wonderful, but unfortunately it couldn't fix the damage done. He wondered if Cody would try again, or if it had been a one time only deal.

Getting up, he grabbed his cane and made his way to the bathroom. There was an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and he brushed his teeth after he relieved himself.

Out in the living room, he found Cody fast asleep on the couch, another remodeling show on the TV. He didn't want to wake him, and instead went to the kitchen and looked through the fridge. There wasn't a lot of stuff, and there were things he didn't recognize, powders and strange brands of fruit drinks. Opening the cupboards, he found that they were liberally stuffed with things like seaweed wrappers and salmon jerky.

The kitchen was gorgeous. _I could really do some damage here._ He surveyed the beautiful copper pots, like the kind his grandmother used to cook with. _I'll bet I could whip up a great batch of barbecue sauce. He's got honey, and..._ His hip ached dully, and he wondered if he'd be able to stand long enough to make anything, really. He used to cook nearly everything except breakfast for the three of them. _Now I can barely stand long enough to put together instant oatmeal._

Which, fortunately, Cody had. It was apple spice flavor, which he'd never tried before, but he boiled some water on the range and made a small bowl. It didn't taste like his mom's had, but it was good, far better than the generic plain oatmeal he'd been living off for months, and he ate it all.

The phone rang, and he leaned toward the phone, noticing that it said Eric Hansen on the caller ID. He picked it up. "Hello?"

There was a pause. "Nick? Is that you?" asked Tammi.

"Yeah, hon. How are you?"

"I'm fine—how are you? Are you okay?" she asked in a rush.

"Fine." He paused. "I mean, the situation's a little strange, but I'm fine."

"Cody said he had to call Tim Lawrence to come in and check on you." Her tone was faintly scolding.

"Yeah, I took a long flight, and there was a problem with the fuel. Mimi got me through, but it was kind of rough at the end."

"You're taking it easy, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Cody barely lets me hold my own spoon."

She giggled. "Good." There was a pause. "I'm so glad that he's taking care of you. We were really worried about you."

"You don't need to worry about me."

"Of course I do." Unspoken was the fact that no one else really would. "Anyway, I've been hoping to talk to you. All the other times I've called, Cody said you were sleeping."

"I probably was."

"You really need to take care of yourself," said Tammi, her voice plaintive. "You need to do whatever Tim says. And let Cody help you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"I know that you're probably feeling guilty, and you're probably really uneasy, considering your past together, but Cody just genuinely wants you to feel better. You need another chance, Nick. You've been working much too hard, and you're worn out. Eric and I have been really worried about you, especially this past month."

"Okay, I get it," said Nick quietly.

"But you don't like it," teased Tammi.

"Nope. Who would? I feel like—"

"—like you're taking advantage of him."

"Yeah."

"Well, you're not. He had the week off already, and he's offered everything to you of his own free will. He's an adult, and if he wants to pay for a doctor for you, he can."

"It's not just the doctor. It's rent. Food—"

"Nick, stop it. He's going to help you, and this is just what you need to get back on your feet again."

"Yeah." Nick rubbed at a mark on the glass tabletop.

"So...do you think there's any chance you'll get back together with him?"

Nick was so surprised he dropped the phone. Leaning over, he grimaced in pain as he picked it up again, his hip protesting strongly. "Are you serious? We didn't end things...on the best of terms. And...I'm...he's changed so much. I've changed. We're not the same people. I don't think...I can't..."

"Okay, okay, I was just wondering." He heard Eric's voice in the background. "Look, I gotta go. Eric says hi, by the way."

"Say hi to him for me," said Nick automatically.

"We're going to come over for dinner sometime in the next couple nights, I think. Tell Cody I called and I'll try calling again later."

"Yeah. Sure. Bye."

"Bye." She hung up.

He put the phone back on the cradle, his head whirling. Getting back with Cody? Impossible. _Might as well visit the moon on a bicycle._ He shook his head. They were so far apart now they were practically on separate continents.

He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. Sure, Cody wasn't afraid to touch him, and had even held him that one night, but his eyes were so cold, so remote. Other than a few fleeting flashes of emotion, Cody had been distant.

"Who was that?" Cody came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"Tammi."

"Oh. I'll call her back." He went to pick up the phone.

"She and Eric were going someplace. They've probably left already."

Cody nodded, and then picked up the empty oatmeal bowl. "Looks like you found everything."

"Yeah."

Putting the bowl in the sink, Cody turned and gave him a look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure." He sighed and let his hand drop to his side.

"Let me guess. She told you not to feel guilty?"

He grinned. "Something like that."

"You shouldn't." He opened the fridge and pulled out some cold cuts, then took seaweed wrappers out of the cupboard and started to lay them on the plate. That done, he opened the fridge and poured juice and added a powder to it, mixing it deftly. "I'm able to make my own decisions—"

"Yeah, I know. You can help if you want, and you're an adult, I get it, really, I do." He sighed. "Doesn't mean that I have to be delighted about living off your charity."

Cody gave him a hurt look.

Nick swore. "Listen, that came out wrong. I don't want to live off anyone's charity. I've been making it on my own, and..."

For a second, there was a look in Cody's eyes, and _Yeah, great job_ came through, loud and clear and sarcastic, so much like the old days that Nick just stared at him. "You want anything else?" asked Cody.

"No, I'm good." Nick rubbed the back of his neck again, feeling off-balance.

"Is your neck hurting? I could help..."

"No," said Nick hastily. "I'm fine. Really." His hip twinged again and he drew in a breath. "So what the hell are you eating?"

"Rolls," said Cody absently.

"Huh." No stranger to sushi, Nick stared as Cody finished making them, but he couldn't quite figure out why he wasn't just using bread and making a sandwich. Cody sat down and drank his juice and took a bite. "So, another round of cards?"

"Why not?" Cody smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes like it used to. Sad, because Cody had the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen on another human being, especially when he was smiling.

"I let you off easy before," said Nick, returning the smile.

It was Cody's game again, though, and he wiped the floor with Nick. Afterward they headed out to the living room and watched some TV. At least, Nick watched TV as he lay on the couch, and Cody read the paper, looking through the real estate listings, wearing a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. Nick's hip throbbed, but it was tolerable, and he didn't bother to ask Cody for a pill.

Cody yawned, and then yawned again. He took off the reading glasses and leaned forward, putting them and the newspaper on the coffee table. "I'm beat," he announced. "Bed?"

"Okay." Nick got up slowly and Cody helped him back to the bathroom, where he brushed his teeth while leaning against the counter. He didn't feel overly tired, but after he was done in the bathroom, he followed Cody to the bed and got in.

Cody pulled off his shirt and jeans, toeing off his socks, and slid under the covers. He turned the lamp off and the room was dark. Within minutes he was snoring.

Nick tried to change position slowly, but it was no use. The ache was growing, and he grimaced. He lay there until exhaustion pressed his eyelids closed and pulled him into sleep.

A dream of napalm and gunshots woke him. For a long second he lay panting in the bed, waiting for the sound of the mortar fire to fade. His hip burned and he was twisted in the sheets.

He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry mouth. The alarm clock read two in the morning, and he groaned. Getting up, he hobbled to the bathroom to take care of business, and then he splashed a little water on his face and held onto the sink for a while with both hands, waiting for his heart rate to get back to normal. He ran a towel across his face and then limped back into bed, his hip throbbing like mad.

He had no idea where Cody had put the pills, and, besides, he knew that he couldn't walk much further to go look for them. Still, he felt guilty as he shook Cody's arm.

"Hmm? What?" Cody came awake slowly, rubbing his eye while he turned toward Nick.

"Hey, could you..."

"What time is it?" Cody yawned, looking muzzy. "Damn. What?"

Usually Cody wasn't such a heavy sleeper. Nick felt another flash of guilt about waking him up. He didn't want to bother him, but he had no choice. "I need a pill."

Suddenly Cody was awake. "Wait, what?" Nick opened his mouth to answer, but Cody interrupted him. "I'll be right back." He threw the covers back and got out of bed. After a few minutes, Cody came back into the room, and Nick took the pill and drank half the glass of water that he'd brought.

"You should have reminded me," said Cody, sounding upset.

"Thought I could get through the night without one."

"I don't understand why." Cody sat down on the bed next to him. "You should just take the pills, and then you can rest. Sleep is the key here, Nick."

A prickle of anger slid up his spine. "Listen, I know that you're trying to help, and I appreciate it, I really do, but painkillers..." He shuddered. "You know how many vets line up for them? They have no choice. They can't live without them. Right after the accident, and the surgery, they had me out of my gourd on morphine for a while. You know how good it feels? It's amazing. And after they take you off..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "They fix you up with something else, and then you just keep wanting it...I didn't want that. I didn't want to need them so bad that I'd..."

"Not everything leads to addiction—"

"Well, yeah, probably not, with Doctor Tim to watch over you. I bet he has a short list of patients, right? But the VA docs—they don't have that kind of luxury. People slip through all the time. And I didn't want to slip through. I talked to a couple nurses, and figured out what I could scrape by on, and sometimes I wouldn't even take that. They make me fuzzy and they're...pricy." He reopened his eyes and could see Cody watching him in the dim light. "Look, I'll try to remember, okay? But it's just..." There was a light touch on the back of his hand, and he knew that Cody understood.

Cody slid back into bed, and Nick could feel the slow press of the painkiller descend upon him, and then he was pulled under into dark pools of dream.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Nick woke the next morning and cracked open one eye. The sunlight streaming through the skylight revealed that it was late morning. He cracked open the other eye and stretched a little. Cody was sitting on a couch on the other side of the room. Behind him a set of sliding wooden doors had been pulled open, and he could see into a huge walk-in closet that was completely lined with clothes. Cody looked up and noticed that he was awake, and put down the book he was reading and took off his glasses and smiled. "Breakfast?"

"Sure." Nick got up unsteadily and made his way to the bathroom. When he reemerged, Cody was waiting for him next to the door. Nick leaned on him as they headed for the kitchen.

Scrambled eggs and toast again, but this time there was fresh orange juice, and he took a big gulp. Only it tasted strange. He grimaced, looking at the glass.

"Protein powder," said Cody.

"But—"

"You need it." His look promised that he wouldn't budge.

Nick sighed and dove into his eggs. They were perfect again. There was blackberry jelly for his toast, which was his favorite. He wondered if Cody remembered or if it was something he just had on hand. "This is great. Thanks."

"Sure." Cody sat down, a glass of something greenish in his hand, and drank a third of it in one long pull. Wiping his moustache off with his napkin, he looked at Nick. "You've lost too much weight," he said quietly. "You need some protein. Later, once you've put on at least ten or fifteen pounds, we'll try adding more vegetables to your diet, maybe some blue-green algae—"

"What?" said Nick. "I'm fine. I don't need to eat...algae. And how long do you think I'm staying?" he added in disbelief. "Fifteen pounds? That could take a couple months. I've got routes to do, regular routes, and if I'm not working—"

"No routes." Cody's tone was firm. "No flying. Nothing until you've recovered."

"Fifteen pounds could take months." Nick stared at him. "I'm recovered enough _now_. If I had to, I could fly Mimi in a heartbeat."

"We've had this conversation before."

"I thought you meant _days_ —"

"I meant as long as it takes." For a moment the ice thawed, and Nick thought he could see concern in Cody's eyes, but it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

"Cody, look, a couple weeks, that's fine. But a couple months—"

"We're not talking about this further. I told you it was final. You need to recuperate."

Nick felt sick to his stomach and pushed his plate away. Leaning back, he rubbed the back of his neck, his mind crowded with worry. What good was recuperating if he lost all of his usual gigs? He didn't want to have to start over with Del and do late-night hauling again.

"Nick, you know that it's for the best." Cody opened up a bottle of pills and put another on the table.

 _Simple choice. Stay here and be drugged into oblivion for months, and have to work twice as hard to start over, or get out now and..._ He frowned. As much as he knew he could fly right at that moment if he had to, the way he'd always done everything he had to, he knew that it was a bad idea. Sighing, he reached out and took the pill, swallowing it down with some of the orange juice.

"How about another turn in the jacuzzi?" asked Cody.

"Sure. And a shave."

Cody didn't look pleased about the shaving bit, but helped him back to the bathroom and ran the water in the jacuzzi while Nick got rid of his stubble. He felt a little shaky as the painkiller started to work. The throb in his hip became more remote.

The water was warm and he sank into it with a sigh. _I could get used to this._ He stared at the ceiling. _Too bad it can't last._

"What are you thinking?"

Nick hesitated. "Uh..."

Cody flushed. "You don't have to—"

"Just thinking about how good this feels. My apartment only has a shower."

"You could find something else," said Cody, suddenly energized. "There are some great properties south of where you're living. In fact, it doesn't make any sense to rent. You're just throwing your money away. You could have been building equity—"

"Whoa," said Nick, amused. "Look, I can't afford anything else. I took the best place I could find. I don't want to get locked into a mortgage." _Especially because I don't know what tomorrow will bring._

"Oh," said Cody, looking disappointed. "Well, if you change your mind..."

 _...and if a pile of money suddenly falls into my lap..._ "I'll let you know." He yawned.

"I think Tammi and Eric are going to come over for dinner soon."

"Mmm."

"I ran into Eric last week by accident. I haven't seen him or Tammi in over a year, but then I was at GNC and Eric tapped me on the shoulder and said hello. He invited me to their party." Cody's foot rubbed against his as he changed position. "It was a completely chance occurrence. Strange how something so small can change things. Without it, I'd be..." He blinked. "...on the beach at Acapulco."

"Yeah, crazy." Nick was even more suspicious about what Cody had originally planned for the week. "You look like you've been there and back again already."

"I have a very private backyard," said Cody, suddenly smiling. "Great for tanning."

Nick yawned again. "Sounds nice."

"There's a pool, too, and a high fence. Jake and I..." He blushed. "Anyway, there's a long covered patio, and we can sit out there later, if you want."

"Mmm." He slid a little and then blinked.

"I think first you should take a nap, though." Cody helped him out of the tub, wrapping him in towels and marching him into the bedroom. Nick got in the bed, drowsy and damp, and Cody left but then came back and began to massage his hip. The hot oil felt wonderful. He lay there and let Cody's fingertips lull him to sleep.

When he woke, Cody made good on his promise and they went out on the patio. Nick was bundled into sweatpants and a t-shirt and socks, and Cody settled him on a chaise lounge and wrapped a blanket around him for good measure. He disappeared inside, and Nick looked at the stack of books on the table next to him. A couple military thrillers, a few thick books of real estate listings, and _the Three Musketeers._ He yawned and looked up at the afternoon sky.

There was a warm breeze and he could smell flowers and freshly cut grass. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, let the peace and quiet wash over him while he breathed in and out.

He heard Cody come out and sit down. There was a rustle of newspaper and he knew that he was looking at real estate listings again.

None of this made any sense. Being here in Cody's house, eating his food, sharing a bed—hell, wearing his socks; there was still a part of him that couldn't quite wrap his head around it. After the spectacular crash of their relationship, he'd never imagined seeing him again.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. There were days when he imagined seeing him somewhere public with Jake, and having an even hotter date on his own arm. The jealousy and anger he'd felt had fueled him in the beginning, and he'd worked hard and made a good career for himself before the accident.

Cody was still going through the newspaper, and Nick didn't bother to look, just kept his eyes closed, thinking about how strange all of this was, yet how familiar. Being with Cody had always been so natural. In 'Nam they'd been so close it burned, and they'd backed off when they'd come back home, but eventually they'd just fallen into bed again one late night. He remembered how good it had felt, how right, how much he'd loved to just touch Cody, to watch him as he cried out in pleasure. He'd never felt like that with anyone else.

There was another rustle as Cody set down the newspapers and then the sound of the sliding glass door opening and closing. Nick opened his eyes and realized he was alone on the patio.

The cordless phone was on the table next to him, and he hesitated for a moment before picking it up and dialing the hangar.

"Del Robertson."

"Hey, Del, it's Nick Ryder. Listen—"

"Nicky! Hey, how are you doing? You were looking pretty bad last time I saw you."

"Fine. Great. Listen, I was hoping to talk to you about Mimi—"

"Don't worry about the old girl, she's fine," proclaimed Del. "She's under lock and key right now."

"That's great, Del, thanks. But really, I know that this isn't what we agreed to, and I was wondering—"

"Your friend already took care of all of the fees." Del sounded positively bubbly, and Nick's stomach dropped when he wondered how much money Cody'd had to pay to get Del Robertson to sound bubbly. "Don't worry about it, Nicky. Get better soon. We'll find some new routes for you when you get back."

"I just—"

"See you around," he added before he hung up.

Nick sighed and hung up as well, putting the phone back. Like it or not, he was in Cody's debt, and it was getting deeper every day. The phone rang, and Nick ignored it, settling back on the lounge. Del's check would probably cover at least a month's rent in the hangar, but that was only a month, and if Cody was serious about keeping him here for two...

The breeze was getting cooler, and he tried not to dwell on the future. _Cross that bridge when you come to it_. The sunlight dimmed a little as a few low-slung clouds passed in front of it.

Cody came back out, looking preoccupied. "I need to run out to the grocery store. Dinner company..." He leaned over and helped Nick up out of the chair.

 _Tammi and Eric._ "Great." He crossed the patio and followed Cody in.

Cody turned toward him. "Look, your clothes are in the closet, on the right hand side. I'll only be gone for about a half hour. Anything you need?"

"Nope, I'm good." His cane was leaning on the bed, and he made his way over to the walk-in closet as Cody left.

Turning on the light switch revealed the impressive sweep of Cody's wardrobe. Racks of expensive suits, loafers, silk shirts, even a velvet-lined wooden box containing several sets of cufflinks. Five tuxedoes in basic black.

His own clothing took up only a tiny section of the closet and looked worn and shabby. He picked a long sleeved dress shirt that had seen better days; thankfully, it wasn't stained with oil. Pants. He changed out of the sweats he was wearing. Stopping at the bathroom, he combed back his hair, mournfully noting how much grey had crept in, and then made his way out to the living room.

Cody came in twenty minutes later, laden with bags from a grocery store Nick had never heard of. He began frantically unpacking them in the kitchen, pulling out saucepans at the same time.

"Need some help?" asked Nick, leaning on the kitchen table.

Cody looked up, agitation clear in his body language. "I've got it," he said, and then his attention went right back to the bags.

Nick made his way back to the living room and sat down. The bastard couch was no fun, and his hip started throbbing only after a few moments. He was looking forward to seeing Tammi and Eric, though, and he was pretty hungry. He braced himself and listened to Cody dash around the kitchen.

At one time he would have fidgeted, wandered around the room, looked for something to amuse himself, but those days were past. Getting on and off a couch was too difficult now. In the months following the surgery he'd had to find unknown wells of patience. So he sat and thought about things, about how he could possibly pay Cody back, about how quickly he could get back on his feet and get back to flying routes, about repairing Mimi and how much time and work that would entail. He closed his eyes and mapped out different approaches. He could picture her so clearly in his mind, could take apart her cursed carburetor and put it back together again, could imagine the fuel lines, the bearings, the screws, every inch of her engine. It was how he'd kept his sanity in the long days in the rehab wing.

There was an insistent knock at the door, and he got to his feet, noticing that Cody had nearly flown out of the kitchen to answer it. He started walking toward the door to greet them and stopped in surprise when he realized that it wasn't Tammi and Eric in the entryway. It was Derek.

"Good to see you," said Cody, shaking his hand.

Nick felt his gut clench. _This asshole just threatened him yesterday, and now he's playing nice and having him over for dinner?_

"Smells great," said Derek, breezily walking past Nick and into the kitchen. "Hope it's better than your usual cooking." He gave Nick a conspirator's grin.

"Almost ready," said Cody, giving Nick a look so complicated that he had no hope of decoding it. "Why don't you two sit down in the dining room? I'll bring it in."

 _A peace mission? Does he want us to be friends?_ Nick almost frowned, and made his way to the formal room, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable black metal chairs. Matte black plates and black cloth napkins were arranged on the glass-top table.

"I brought a bottle of wine," said Derek. "My father owns a vineyard, and this is one of their better years."

"Great," said Nick. He tried to adjust his leg to a more comfortable position, but only succeeded in sending a new flash of pain through his hip.

"You know, usually on Friday nights I hit the clubs," said Derek. "But Cody can be pretty convincing..."

"Yeah," said Nick noncommittally.

"Cody's a good friend to bring to a club." Derek examined the foil seal on the bottle. "The girls flock around him like you can't believe."

 _I can believe it. I've seen it plenty._ "Sure."

He pulled off the foil and sank the corkscrew into the cork. "Even at his age, he still pulls them in. Pretty impressive."

Cody appeared in the doorway, a steaming bowl of vegetables in each hand, and put them down on the table. "Derek likes to exaggerate," he said.

"Oh, c'mon," said Derek, rolling his eyes. "Just a month ago you had to beat them off with a stick when we were at the Viper Room. You took home that foxy little thing..."

Cody blushed faintly. "I didn't take her home."

"Could've fooled me." He pulled out the cork with practiced ease, and Cody left. "You should have seen her. Barely twenty-one, gorgeous, like a model..."

Cody returned with another bowl, heaped full of mashed potatoes. "She wasn't that into me—she thought I was a producer, and when she found out I wasn't, she dropped me and went on to the next guy."

"Still, she was a fox." Derek was practically drooling. "Anyway, it's always like that. Cody attracts attention."

"Yeah, he does." _So you use him as a chick magnet, and when he's not interested in the girl, you go in for the kill._ Derek was good-looking, but not on the same level as Cody.

This time Cody returned with the entrée, a large glass pan full of salmon with lemon slices garnishing the top. Derek poured a glass of wine for himself, and then for Cody. Nick held up his hand to refuse.

"Dig in, guys," said Cody. "The asparagus is really fresh."

Nick helped himself to the mashed potatoes, and Cody put a wedge of salmon on his plate without asking him, along with some of the asparagus and some sliced summer squash. Nick gave him a look, which was ignored.

"Salmon?" Cody asked Derek. Derek nodded, and Cody served him a piece, then took off the potholder and put the spatula down.

Derek held up his wineglass. "To Cody," he said, and he clinked glasses with Cody. "Oh, wait, Nick doesn't have any wine."

"I'm fine." Nick raised his glass of water and clinked with theirs.

"It's bad luck to toast without something alcoholic."

"Never heard that before," said Nick.

"Maybe you should get out more often, then." Derek drank half the wine in one swallow. "I didn't make it up."

"Never said you did."

"Asparagus?" asked Cody.

Derek shook his head and took a bite of the salmon. "You know, this reminds me of the time we were at Luna." He grinned. "You remember that gorgeous blond you picked up?"

"Jessica." Cody returned the grin.

"She had the most incredible body," gushed Derek. "And her friend was amazing in bed. Then we all went for that weekend to Santa Barbara...oh, but maybe I shouldn't continue this story." He paused. Cody said nothing.

"That's up to you," said Nick as he ate a forkful of mashed potatoes.

"Jessica got mad at Cody and left in a huff, and we ended up going down to the hotel bar and getting _smashed_. And then the girl...what was her name? Tanya? She got mad when I picked up that blond who was playing the piano."

"Her name was Tara." Cody took a sip of his wine. "The pianist was named Penny."

"Oh, yeah. Anyway, she was all over me when I told her I was a music critic for the LA Times..." He laughed and poured more wine. "Nick, seriously, you should try this. It's a great wine."

Nick shook his head. "No thanks."

"It'll blow you away. Even if you're the kind of guy who only drinks crap red wine—you're not that kind of guy, are you?"

"Can't. I'm taking medication."

"Oh." There was a flash of triumph in Derek's eyes.

That was when Nick realized what was going on. Derek wanted to fight. Maybe not overtly, like wrestling across the table right in the middle of the mashed potatoes, but he was doing his best to flaunt his friendship with Cody to try to get a rise out of him.

He mentally regrouped himself, recognizing that war had been declared.

One of the horrors of war, even wars that did not involve firearms, was that sometimes the innocent ended up in the crossfire. Namely Cody, and Nick couldn't bear the thought. He remembered their meal at Parkville West, the smooth way Cody'd steered their conversation. "I used to know a pilot who loved red wine," said Nick casually. "His wife was from Naples, and her family made a really great table wine every year. After they got divorced he always used to bitch about how much he missed it." Cody looked at him quizzically. "Tony. Works out of Point Mugu." His hip throbbed, and he shifted slightly in the chair.

"There was one night at the Whiskey Bar where we were drinking Cristal and these girls thought Cody was a movie star," said Derek. "They wouldn't believe him when he said no—they thought he was lying."

Nick countered with a story about Sparky, how he'd come home one night and his wife didn't have her contacts in, how she thought he was a prowler and nearly gave him a concussion with a frying pan.

Derek poured more wine for himself and Cody, and told a story about a club they'd gone to where Cody had danced with a drag queen for half the night.

"She was a good dancer," said Cody, shrugging.

Nick dueled further, telling more stories in between mouthfuls of salmon and potato, detailing funny incidents in the other pilots' lives. Next to him, he felt Cody slowly winding down, the tension falling away until he openly laughed when Nick told the story of Sparky and how he always wore his lucky socks while in the air. His lucky pumpkin socks. Derek rolled his eyes and told another story about getting staggeringly drunk in a hotel bar, but all of his anecdotes were beginning to sound the same.

The salmon was simple, yet tasty. Same with the vegetables. Nick was suspicious that Cody'd cooked this blandly on purpose, probably because he was worried about Nick handling anything more complicated, and he had to admit that he was probably right. Even though he was hungry, he couldn't seem to eat much before his stomach protested. He tried to ignore the incessant ache in his hip.

Derek dove right into another story. "Do you remember that time with Jake at the Bar Marmont?" he said, turning to Cody. Cody turned pale. "Jake got so drunk that he could barely walk, and then he kept telling everybody how much he loved you..." Derek changed his tone, imitating Jake. "I love thish guy...no really...I love thish guy!" He laughed.

Cody looked like someone had kicked him in the gut, and Nick felt his temper rise. Cody put his napkin on the table and left, saying quietly that he would be right back.

Derek turned his attention back to Nick. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, pouring the last of the wine into his glass. "Isn't Cody's place great?"

Nick gave him the coldest smile he knew how to give. "Yeah. Terrific."

Derek smiled back, showing teeth.

Silence settled over the table for a long moment, and then Cody came back in. "There's dessert," he said. "Apple pie." His eyes were cold and distant.

Derek looked up at him, still smiling. "Sounds great. Why don't we eat it on the patio?"

"Sounds like a good idea," said Nick, ignoring Cody's surprised glance. He grabbed his cane and got to his feet, trying not to wince at the instant flare of pain in his hip.

The outside air was cool. Cody turned on the outdoor lights, and then went back in to get the pie. Derek flopped down on the chaise lounge, putting his feet up and looking out across the backyard. "Jake heard about this subdivision being built, and I helped him get a word in with the developer," he said. "All of the houses sold almost immediately. They never would have gotten this place without me."

Nick settled on the loveseat, stretching his leg out a little. "Seems like a great place."

"Where do you live?"

"Westchester. Near the airport." He couldn't get comfortable.

"Westchester?" said Derek incredulously.

"Yeah. Bayview Apartments." He looked up to see Cody bringing out a tray.

"It's from Grasch's pastry department," said Cody. "It's really good pie." He handed a plate to Nick, along with a steaming mug which turned out to contain tea. He sipped it gratefully. It tasted like cinnamon.

Derek took a bite of pie and then put the plate on the low table next to him. He gestured out across the backyard. "Your gardener's still got the magic touch."

"He does," agreed Cody. He sat down next to Nick, and took a sip from a black mug that smelled enticingly like coffee. "He's been talking about retiring, but he said he'd continue to take care of my yard for a few more years, even if he does."

Nick suppressed a shiver and drank another sip of tea. Twilight was rapidly giving way to night, and the air was getting cooler. He took a bite of pie.

"Are you still working on the Lassiter show and tell?" asked Derek, swirling the wine in his glass.

Cody settled back in the loveseat. "I haven't. Not this week."

"Too bad your vacation got ruined."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Well, your backyard certainly isn't Acapulco." Derek stared off into the distance.

Nick couldn't finish more than a few bites; he was too full already. Instead he took another sip of tea and tried not to let Derek get under his skin. _It's always better to bend than to break._ That particular saying of his father's had been his mantra for months, and had gotten him through the worst nights, when he'd had no tears left, when he'd had nothing but despair for the future.

Close as he was on the seat, he could feel the living heat of Cody's body, could feel it radiating outward. He drank the last of his tea, tasting the honey that had pooled at the bottom, and set the mug down on the table next to him.

"We should hit the Viper Room tomorrow," said Derek. "Jillian's going to be there, I think, and maybe Max."

"I'm busy," said Cody.

Derek turned to look at him. "Busy? On Saturday night?"

"I've got company."

"So bring him along." Derek made a dismissive hand gesture. "Jillian likes projects. She'll take care of him."

Cody shook his head. "I'm staying in."

Derek stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? Cody, it's Saturday night. We're all counting on you."

"I just told you that I'm staying in." Cody stared back at him.

He sat up. "I can't believe that you—that you're letting this—"

"You'll have a good time with Max," said Cody, putting down his coffee mug. "Besides, I wasn't even supposed to be home, remember?"

"Yeah." Derek looked pissed. "Thanks for—thanks for dinner. Talk to you later." He got up and left.

Cody let out a sigh and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. Nick could see the tension in his body. Hesitantly, he put a hand on his back, just touching at first, and then rubbing lightly. He felt Cody relax under his fingers.

It grew darker, and the breeze became colder still. The ache in his hip was fierce. Nick shivered, and Cody turned toward him, looking like he'd just woken up. "We should get inside."

"Probably a good idea." Nick grabbed his cane and went to get up, only to find that getting up wasn't a good idea. He hissed through his teeth and felt Cody's arms around him, balancing him while he tried to figure out how to breathe again. After a long, head-spinning moment, he managed to reopen his eyes.

"C'mon," said Cody gently. "You should get in bed."

Nick nodded, and let Cody help him across the patio to the sliding doors that led into the master bedroom. Each step was painful, and he leaned more and more on Cody until Cody was practically carrying him.

Once they reached the bed, Cody stripped off his clothes, and then helped him slide under the sheets. He disappeared for a moment and then brought him a pill and a glass of water.

For once, he didn't feel bad about taking it. The pain had intensified, and he was tired. Cody helped him turn on his side, and then tucked a hot water bottle under the covers, over his feet. He sighed in relief and flexed his toes, feeling the heat penetrate.

Cody sat down next to him on the bed, and he felt warm hands rubbing his hip, gentle and soothing. Nick closed his eyes and the shivers faded. He let Cody's wonderful fingers take away the tension and within minutes he was asleep.

————-

Something woke Nick out of a sound sleep. He lay there for a moment, disoriented, wondering what was going on. There was a heavy weight on his feet; a hot water bottle turned cold. He pushed it away.

A noise. He blinked again, and realized that it was Cody, whimpering in his sleep. He drew closer and hesitated, his hand almost touching his shoulder, not knowing if he should wake him or not.

Cody made another whimpering noise, and that made his decision for him. Nick touched him lightly. "Hey, man, c'mon, wake up, it's only a dream," he said, keeping his tone soft and soothing.

He was unprepared for the reaction. Cody tried to roll away, sobbing outright, and Nick lay there, perplexed. "Cody, it's a dream," he said, more loudly, and then he reached out again, grabbing his arm. "Wake up."

Cody was still for a moment, and then rolled back toward him, eyes wide, tears on his cheeks. "Nick?" he said hesitantly.

"I'm here. You okay?" Cody nodded, still looking frightened. Nick shifted on the bed, pulling him close. Cody started crying again, pressing himself tightly against Nick. Surprised, he let his hands run up and down his back, soothing him, murmuring words into his ear. Cody shuddered in his arms. Minutes passed, and he finally seemed to calm down, pulling away and wiping his eyes.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay." But in the back of his mind, it wasn't okay. Seeing Cody cry twice in a week frightened him more than he wanted to admit. Something was very wrong here, something big. His first impulse was to reach out for him, touch him, coax it out of him with his hands, but he couldn't. It was far too late for that.

It had felt so right to hold him, though; to comfort him, like he used to. He settled back onto the other side of the bed, yawning. He could feel the ache in his hip, remote but still there. Resting his head on the pillow, he rubbed his eyes and yawned again. "G'night."

"Goodnight," said Cody, sounding wide awake.

———————

Nick was alone when he woke up the next morning. The clock read eight-thirty, and he got out of bed, grimacing at the stiffness in his hip. After hitting the bathroom, he pulled on one of the robes and went out to the kitchen.

"I was about to wake you up," said Cody. He was already dressed in casual clothes; dark slacks and a tight grey sweater hugged his long, lean frame.

"Didn't realize we had a social engagement." Nick slid into a chair carefully.

"We're going to the hospital today." He flipped an omelet expertly.

"Hospital?" Nick's stomach lurched. "Why?"

Cody looked over at him. "For the tests. Didn't Tim explain this?"

"I don't remember. What tests?"

"I'm not really sure. A CT scan, maybe an x-ray...it's all scheduled for today." He folded the omelet over expertly.

More tests. More pain. Nick closed his eyes and took a very controlled breath.

"Nick?" Cody was in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm done with tests," he said. "Cody, there's nothing more they can do for me. My hip is screwed up and that's it."

"That's not it," insisted Cody. "Tim thinks—"

"I don't care what he _thinks_ ," snapped Nick. "I _know_ what's going on here. I have to live with it every day."

"There might be a chance—"

"I don't want to hear about it."

"Nick, if there's a chance—"

"I told you, _I don't want to hear about it!_ " Nick glared at him.

"You're going to hear about it," said Cody levelly. "You're going to the hospital today. You're going to do whatever Tim thinks is necessary."

The old Nick would have gotten in his face, shouted, _Or what?_ He exhaled. "Cody—"

"Tim needs more recent images." Cody put a hand on his arm. "He thinks that your mobility is deteriorating. He's worried that there might be nerve damage, or bone fragments, and that's why you're in so much pain."

"The doctors already said there wasn't anything else they could do, short of a hip replacement, which they didn't think was necessary. Doctor Saunders told me that it would never get better. A real catch-22."

"But did she tell you it wouldn't get worse?" asked Cody. Nick looked up at him. "That was six months ago. It _has_ gotten worse, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," he finally admitted.

"Then we're going." Cody's eyes grew intense. "I haven't asked anything of you, but I'm asking now. The deal is that you're here as long as it takes, and I pay your bills, whatever you need—"

"I don't—"

"—but you have to cooperate with Tim."

"Cody, I—"

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

This was it. All of the cards were on the table. Cody was asking him for the one thing he didn't think he could do.

He could still leave. Walk out the door. Del's check would get him through at least part of the month.

But Cody's eyes held a glimmer of hope, and he was sunk. "Okay." He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling wearily.

"Good." Cody smiled, a genuine smile that lit his eyes for a second, and then he turned back to the stove. "Sorry to say, but I don't think you're allowed to eat anything. They want to draw blood again."

"Great."

"Why don't you get dressed? We need to leave pretty soon."

Nick went back to the bedroom. He put on the most comfortable things he could find and slipped on his shoes.

The drive over to King Harbor Medical Center didn't take long, and soon enough they were checked in and waiting for the first test in the radiology department. Tim wandered into the room, looking completely at ease. Nick was surprised; none of the other doctors he'd seen had ever shown up at any of the tests before. But here he was, chatting with Cody, and even after the first test was over, he was still there. An x-ray, a CT scan, bloodwork, on and on it went, and by the afternoon Nick was exhausted and feeling the strain. Tim finally left, saying he was supposed to paint his mom's living room, and wished him luck with the MRI.

Cody seemed tired, too, and preoccupied, and didn't want to talk in the waiting room. A girl with a clipboard finally called Nick's name, and he limped behind her, wishing that they all didn't walk so fast. In a room, he changed out of his clothes and into another gown.

"Hi, I'm Kathy." A drab woman in blue scrubs smiled at him. "Have you ever done this before, Mr. Ryder?"

"Nick. Yeah, a few times." With her help, he managed to lie down.

"Did you receive an injection of dye for any of the MRIs before?"

Just the thought of it made him shudder. "Yeah."

"Some patients aren't affected by it, but others are." Her automatic dialogue faltered for a moment, and she gave him a comforting smile. "I'm assuming you're one of those affected by it."

"It wasn't a great ride, no." He thought about his father. _Bend. Don't break._

"We'll get you situated in the machine, and give you the injection there. The imaging shouldn't last much longer than fifteen minutes." She was efficient and helpful, and soon he was lying down, ready for the procedure.

The injection was quick, and the reaction quicker. The itching, from the inside out, crawling in his veins. The heat. The pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and just concentrated on breathing. Kathy's voice came through a speaker, telling him to hold still.

The machine clanged and moved around him. He wasn't claustrophobic, but it was still unnerving, and the discomfort from the injection grew until he felt like his entire body was on fire from the inside out. _Just breathe._ The fiery itching blazed under his skin, and he set his jaw, trying not to make a noise. He could feel the shakes starting.

"Mr. Ryder? Nick?" Kathy hovered over him, her expression worried.

"I'm fine," he ground out.

"I've finished the procedure. Why don't you rest for a few minutes? I think I'll go track down a wheelchair for you..."

 _Breathe._ He lay still, feeling the effects of the dye slowly melt away. Rubbing his still-prickling arms with his hands, he exhaled and tried to relax.

He'd promised himself that he'd never go through this again. That he was done with hospitals, and doctors, and tests. It wasn't the first promise to himself that he'd broken.

Kathy brought a wheelchair, and he managed to get in, feeling shaky and sick. She took him back to the room where his clothes were and helped him change.

Back in the waiting room, he saw Cody sitting in a chair, staring off into space, a magazine forgotten in his lap. As soon as their eyes met, a jolt of concern come through as clear as day. Cody turned pale and got up, the magazine sliding off his lap and falling to the floor as he crossed the room in a few steps.

"Nick? Are you okay?" Cody's anxious blue eyes peered into his own. He nodded, feeling dizzy. Kathy said something quietly about the reaction to the dye, and Cody put his hand on Nick's arm. "Okay. No more tests. That was the last one."

Nick was so relieved that he could have cried. He was barely aware of the trip to the lobby, Cody leaving him in Kathy's hands while he retrieved the Yukon. Together, they both bundled him into the passenger seat. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. Cody was talking to someone on his cell phone, but the words seemed to blur together into something strange.

Back at the house, he was surprised to see Tim again when they pulled into the garage. There was a smear of light blue paint on his neck. Together they got Nick up the steps and into the bedroom, and Tim checked his vitals and asked him a few questions that he could barely figure out how to answer. The room would not stop spinning. He was propped up on pillows and Cody handed him a mug of broth which he had to hold onto with both hands.

Tim gave him a pill to take, another one he didn't recognize, and he heard them talking in low voices. He finished the broth and Cody took the mug away. _What happened to the whale mugs?_ He was confused. The pillows disappeared and he was on his side, blankets pulled up to his chin, and Cody said a few soft words and lightly traced the edge of his jaw with his fingers, and then sleep claimed him.

———————-

Nick came awake in the dark. Cody lay next to him, his breathing slow and peaceful. Getting up, he made his way to the bathroom.

He was halfway back before his legs went wobbly, and then Cody was holding him up, warm arms wrapped around his waist. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Bathroom," he said.

Cody sighed but helped him get back under the covers. "Wake me up next time." A light touch to his shoulder, and then Cody walked around the bed and got in on the other side. The mattress shifted a little.

Within minutes Cody had dropped back off to sleep, but Nick was awake. _I'm next to Cody. In bed._

A week ago he'd been at Tammi and Eric's party, feeling hopeful, wondering if he'd find someone there, someone who'd care, or at least pretend to for the night. And now he was here, inches away from the last person on earth he'd ever imagine caring about him. Why had Cody taken him home? What did this mean?

He swallowed when he realized how much control he'd handed over in just seven days. Had it been a mistake? If he hadn't run into Cody at the party, he wouldn't have been shoved to the floor. He would have finished the cargo run in better shape and taken the check. He'd have some food in the cupboards. A haircut.

The pain in his hip had been stronger this past month, but he'd dismissed it as a variation, nothing to worry about. With an injury like this, the pain was likely to go up and down. At least, that's what he'd told himself. Now he wasn't so sure. He wondered if Tim was right.

He wondered how far Cody would take this deal. What if Tim thought he should have another surgery?

A chill raced up his spine, and his brain seized in fright. _Not again—I can't go through it again—_

His father's words. _Bend. Don't break._

Funny how they'd meant nothing to his father; he'd said things like that all the time in his quest to look like Father of the Year. Funny how it seemed to mean something to him now, how he clung to those words, how they echoed in his head when he needed them.

Surgery. It terrified him. He'd already endured one painful procedure, and the agonizing rehab afterward. The thought of another made him shudder. Laid up in a bed for weeks, unable to walk or drive... Hell, he hadn't even been able to bend over and pick up a sock. It had been the stuff of his worst nightmares.

He took a calming breath, and then another. _Cross that bridge when you come to it._ No one had even said the word yet. And even if Tim did, he'd get through it again. He knew he would, because he'd already done it once.

His head was buzzing, and he realized how tired he was. He shifted the covers a little and closed his eyes, falling into a deep well of sleep.

———————

Nick was aware of music. He could hear a quiet melody just on the edge of his consciousness, and it drew him out of the darkness and into the light. His eyes felt glued shut and his entire body was stiff.

Getting out of bed proved to be difficult. He ended up going with something less optimistic, and sat up slowly instead.

The music was coming from the living room, and gradually Nick realized that it sounded like PCH. One of their ballads. He winced as his hip twinged.

His cane was leaning against the bed, and he took it in hand, standing up carefully. The cold tile of the bathroom floor was almost painful against his feet, and he relieved himself and then brushed his teeth. He looked in the mirror and regretted it immediately; black circles under his eyes, hair standing up like crazy. He really needed a shave. Wiping his mouth on a towel, he tried to slick back his hair with a little water, but gave up.

His legs weren't steady, and he knew he wouldn't make it back to the bed, so he leaned heavily against the edge of the massive tub, half-sitting on the rim. The razor mocked him from the edge of the sink. He had half a mind to go for the shave anyway and damn the consequences.

He heard Cody call out, "Nick?"

"In here," he said.

Cody appeared in the doorway, looking relieved. "Why can't you get it through your thick skull that you just need to yell and I'll be there in a second?" he grumbled, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"I was just resting." Nick tried to look innocent. "It's Sunday. Day of rest." He frowned. "It _is_ Sunday, right?"

"Yes, it's Sunday," said Cody. "Hot tub or bed?"

A naughty joke almost tripped off his tongue, but he stopped it just in time. "Hot tub." He yawned.

Cody looked closely at him. "Maybe later. C'mon, bed."

He didn't put up any resistance, just let Cody tuck him back in. "Shouldn't be tired," he complained.

"Tim said you should sleep when you're tired." Cody readjusted the blankets. "You don't have any resources left, and you're going to wear out easily. Especially after a day like yesterday. Just take it slow."

"Mmm." Nick was already half-asleep.

Dreams, distorted and vague. Images of Mimi, of the _Riptide_ , of the party at Tammi's. He fell, and Cody watched him with cold eyes as he writhed on the ground, unable to get up. He called for help but Cody didn't answer, just stared at him, his blue eyes completely distant.

"Nick, I'm right here!" A hand was on his arm, shaking him.

He opened his eyes and stared up at Cody. "What?"

"You were calling for me. Are you okay?"

"Just...it was a dream." He rubbed his eyes.

Cody helped him sit up. "How about some dinner?"

"I...yeah. That..." He shivered a little.

"C'mon." Cody helped him into a bathrobe.

In the kitchen, Cody settled him into a chair, and then put the leftover salmon and the mashed potatoes in the oven.

The food reminded Nick of dinner with Derek. The guy bothered him, lots, but he wasn't sure what to say. Years ago he would have just let Cody have it with both barrels, but he was aware of how tenuous his place was right now, and Derek had been friends with Jake and was rooted so deeply in Cody's business and social life that it was probably the wisest course to keep his mouth shut.

Still, it bothered him that Derek was involved with Cody in so many ways. Especially considering the blackmail attempt. What would drive him to try that, anyway? _Maybe Daddy cut him off._ He wished he could call Murray and get a background check.

There had to be something he could do. Then again, Cody was an adult, and could take care of himself. _And you can't even take care of yourself, much less anyone else._

Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. Things were getting more complicated.

Cody set a plate in front of him, and Nick automatically reached out for his fork. The salmon was a little dry, but still good, and the mashed potatoes were delicious.

"Tea," said Cody, putting a mug down next to his hand.

"Thanks." His right arm ached a little, and he put his fork down and flexed it a little. Cody watched him. "You get tired of sleeping on one side," said Nick. "Sounds strange, but sometimes it makes my shoulder stiff."

"No, I completely understand." Cody took a sip of his own tea, eyes far-off and remote.

If he hadn't still been Cody underneath, Nick thought he could really learn to dislike this robot version of Cody. He was struck anew by how distant he was. The real Cody was still there somewhere, tucked down into his core, insulated by thick walls. _Walls I helped put in place._ He grimaced and picked up his fork again.

"Tim's stopping by tomorrow to give us the results of your tests."

Nick looked at him, surprised. "That quick?"

"He wants to get this resolved." Cody ate a bite of salmon.

 _Resolved_ sounded suspiciously like _surgery_ to him. He idly pushed mashed potatoes on his plate with his fork. "And if it can't?"

Cody frowned, and Nick wondered if he thought that medical science could fix everything. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

He winced at the thought of being an eternal freeloader, here on Cody's dime. _Though the Jacuzzi's pretty nice._ "Look, I know this is pretty strange. For both of us. But if it turns out to be something...long-term, or if there's...if there's nothing he can do about it, then I'll get out of your hair."

Cody's frown deepened. "That's not going to happen."

Nick had no idea which he was referring to, Tim being unable to help, or him as a permanent lump in his bed, and was about to ask when the phone rang. Cody got up and grabbed it, taking it into another room.

The tea was bland, almost like flavored hot water, but he'd gotten so used to drinking hot water that it was almost a novelty. Nick took a few sips and then attacked the potatoes, managing to put away half of the serving before Cody came back in.

"That was Tammi. They're coming over Tuesday night for dinner." He smiled as he sat down and went back to his meal.

"That's great," said Nick, and meant it. Another bite of salmon, and then he finished the tea, and leaned back very carefully. He watched as Cody ate, remembered how he'd always had manners, even back on the boat when they'd eat buckets of peel-n-eat spicy shrimp. He'd made it look almost elegant. And sometimes he'd suck on his fingers and Nick would get hard—

He changed his train of thought. "Where'd you meet Tim?"

"Sold him a house. I found out he liked to play squash, and I invited him to a game at my club. This was...oh, four years ago, I think. He was pretty busy building his practice, and we didn't get together much, but when Jake died..." He shivered. "He was at the hospital with me the whole time. And then afterward, we just seemed to click."

"I don't think I've ever seen one doctor so many times in a week. Not even the guy who did my surgery."

"He's a good friend." Cody wiped off his moustache with his napkin. "He got dumped about six months ago by his fiancée. She was angry that he spent so much time working, and she left him for an accountant."

"I predict another breakup, in April."

Cody laughed. "You're probably right."

It felt great to hear him laugh. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until he heard it, heard the warmth in his tone. Other lines occurred to him, like _there's no accounting for taste_ , but then he moved a bit to the right, and he couldn't help but wince at the flare of pain that resulted.

Cody was out of his seat in a flash, bringing him a pill. Nick was frustrated. "Cody, man, I don't need a pill every time it hurts—"

"That's right. You need a pill _before_ it hurts."

That thought made him uneasy, but he took the pill anyway, and offered no resistance as Cody helped him out of the kitchen.

Instead of going toward the bedroom, though, they stopped next to the bastard couch. His hip throbbed, and he balked. "I don't want to sit—"

"I know. Lie down. We'll watch a movie or something." Cody had clearly learned a lot in the past week; his hands were confident as he helped him lie down in a way that meant the least pain for him. Still, Nick felt a little dizzy, and put his head on the pillow and closed his eyes for a long moment, waiting for the ache to recede. He shivered.

"Nick?" He reopened his eyes. Cody leaned over him, one warm hand reaching out to touch his wrist. "Cold?"

"Little," he admitted. Cody unfolded a blanket from the back of the couch and covered him with it. He sat down, his thigh next to the pillow, and pressed buttons on at least three different remotes. "What are you going to watch?" asked Nick.

"I rented _True Lies_. Have you seen it?"

"No."

"It's pretty good. I think you'll like it." The film company's logo came up on the screen, and Nick moved a bit so he had a better view.

Now that he was under a blanket, he felt warmer. He yawned as the first scenes of the movie unfolded. Moving his arm slightly, he rolled a bit forward to take a little of the weight off his right hip, and he lay still, riding out the wave of pain that accompanied it.

It'd been a while since he'd seen a movie. He watched as Arnold crashed a party; some of the jokes were worth a chuckle. The painkiller made him feel hazy.

A warm hand stroked the back of his neck, and he sighed before he could stop himself. It felt wonderful. Fingers began to lightly massage the muscles, slowly working out to his shoulder, then rubbing his upper back underneath the bathrobe. He closed his eyes and forgot about the movie, letting Cody's magic touch relax him into putty.

"You're not watching," said Cody, sounding amused.

Nick blinked and realized that he'd missed something—the frumpy wife was now dressed in a sexy outfit as she walked down a hotel corridor. "Sorry." He rubbed his eye with the back of his left hand, yawning.

Cody's hand threaded itself into the back of his hair, delicately stroking, and he sighed again at how good it felt. He remembered times in the past where Cody had taken a nap on the bench seat in the salon of the _Riptide_ , resting his head in his lap, while he read or just watched the water, always touching his skin, feeling him breathe.

"How about a little time in the Jacuzzi?" said Cody.

He almost wanted to say no, because it meant that the wonderful touching would stop, but the thought of soaking in the warm water was too tempting. "Sounds good." Cody got up and helped him get off the couch, and together they walked through the bedroom to get to the master bathroom.

"This bathroom should be on that Robin Leach show," said Nick. "Hey, while you're getting the water started, how about I shave?"

Cody gave him a dubious look as Nick leaned against the sink. "I don't know..."

"C'mon, it itches. Won't take long."

"Fine." Cody turned on the spigot and checked the temperature of the water.

It wasn't his best shaving job ever, but it was fast. He'd learned to be quick since he couldn't stand for very long. He got into the Jacuzzi carefully, and let the warmth of the water seep into his bones. It felt ridiculously good. He dunked his head a few times and slicked his hair back with his hand. _I really need a haircut._

Cody didn't stay with him, but he did come in to check every so often. Which was a good idea, as he almost fell asleep at one point. When he started feeling woozy he decided it was time to get out, and he stood up, only to find that there weren't any towels within reach.

"Here," said Cody, who'd just come in. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders.

"Thanks." He used it to rub his hair dry and then wiped down his chest and shoulders. Cody helped him get out of the tub, and he leaned against it as Cody dried off his legs. "I can do that—"

"I know." Cody enfolded him in another towel, and took hold of his elbow through the fabric, steering him out of the bathroom.

The bed looked incredibly inviting. He yawned again, wondering why there were towels on top of the covers, and then Cody helped him lie down. _Oh. Massage. Wow._ Cody laid a towel on his legs and began rubbing his back first, using long, relaxing strokes. Nick sighed in pleasure.

Hot oil was drizzled on his lower back, and Cody began to work in earnest, paying special attention to the abused muscles of his right side which had to work harder to compensate for his bad hip. It felt heavenly. The painkiller had taken away most of the ache, and he simply relaxed, letting him work.

His thighs and calves were next. Cody was very gentle with his left leg, and then he switched to the right, using his thumbs to dig into the knotted muscles of his calf. By the time he was done Nick felt boneless. Cody went to work on his bad hip, and soon enough Nick was on his back and Cody was rubbing his feet.

 _I could_ really _get used to this._ He yawned and stretched a little, closing his eyes.

Cody finished with his right foot, and then he felt the bed dip slightly as he sat down next to him. "Feeling good?"

"Oh yeah." Good was not the word. He hadn't felt this relaxed in months, not since he'd been on morphine.

"Good." Nick heard him pick up the tube of oil again. He sighed, contented but slightly puzzled. _What's left to massage?_

Hot, oiled hands wrapped around his cock, and he let out a gasp, his eyes flying open. "Cody—"

"Shh. Just enjoy." Cody's hands were moving now, sliding up and down, and Nick couldn't help but moan at the sensation. His cock swelled and grew hard almost instantly.

He hadn't been touched by anyone since Kathy, and he hadn't brought himself off in over three weeks. Cody's touch was unhurried, his fingertips gliding up and down languidly, and Nick moaned again, overwhelmed by the sensation. "Cody, you—"

"Shh."

Cody poured more oil into his hands, and then stroked him again, lightly, from root to tip. Nick hissed at the intensity, and arched his back, causing a flash of pain to spark through his hip.

"Stay still," said Cody softly. And then his hands moved, still with that light pressure, stroking again and again, gentle and languid and soothing, and he gasped. One hot, oiled hand began to caress his balls, and he gasped again. Cody knew just how to touch him, as if he'd memorized it years ago, and every movement brought even more delicious sensation.

The need to come built within him, Cody's lazy stroking feeding into it by tiny degrees, frustratingly gentle. The sensations teased, and he squirmed on the bed, feeling another twinge of pain. "Please, Cody—"

Cody didn't answer, but his strokes sped up, and Nick nearly sobbed with relief. The feelings grew and intensified until his cock was on fire, until he was on the edge and every stroke drew him closer and closer. And then he exploded, crying out, his cock pulsing wave after wave of come onto his belly.

He lay there, completely stunned. _What the hell? What does this mean?_

Cody disappeared, and he heard the sound of running water. A moment later Cody reemerged with a damp washcloth and cleaned him off. Nick's limbs didn't want to respond; he simply lay there, still out of breath.

Picking up the extra towels, Cody threw them in the hamper, and then helped Nick get under the covers. To say that he was blown away was an understatement. Nick couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened, and the implications.

"Do you need anything?" asked Cody.

Nick looked up at him, and the remoteness in Cody's eyes hit him like a bucket of saltwater full in the face. There was nothing there, no hint of intimacy, of connection. _He only did it to make me feel better. That was his idea of physical therapy._

He felt shaken to his core.

Cody left again, and Nick curled up on his right side, feeling exhausted and confused. He blinked back tears as Cody slid into bed next to him and turned off the light.


	5. Chapter 5

It was still dark when Nick woke up. He lay there, listening to Cody's breathing until he could tell that he was deeply asleep.

Getting up, he pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed his cane. He opened the door onto the patio and went outside. Cody didn't stir.

Outside, the first blush of dawn lit the eastern sky, and he sat down in one of the patio chairs. His head was full of emotion, and he wanted to think. The air was crisp, and he wrapped the bathrobe a little tighter around himself.

In the past, he'd never been big on agonizing over things, or even spending much of his time lost in thought. The accident had changed that, as it had changed everything, and he found himself with chunks of time where he desperately needed something to keep his mind off the pain and the despair that had threatened him.

Surveying the backyard, he noticed flowers growing in pots, the lemon trees that dotted the back wall, the placid surface of the pool. Cody had made a sanctuary here for himself—well, himself and Jake, that is—and he could sense how much it meant to him.

But there was that wall around him. _Does he care, or is this just an obligation to an ex-boyfriend? How can I reach him?_ He took a deep breath. _Do I want to reach him?_ He had no idea what to do.

 _We're different people now._ It would be like starting a brand new relationship, but with the added complication of the ghost of their old relationship hovering around. He rubbed the back of his neck.

The sun rose higher, long rays of light illuminating the backyard. He worried at the problem in his head.

Finally he made up his mind. Even if Cody did feel something more than guilt for shoving him at the party, and a caretaker's natural tendency toward nurturing, that wall would never let him break through, especially after what had happened between them. It was a lost cause. _And you don't even know what's behind that wall._ Nick's own heart was confused as well, and he settled back with a sigh, rubbing his temple.

Birds twittered in a tree, chasing each other and making acrobatic cartwheels in the air, so fast he could barely keep them in sight. He shivered and realized it was probably time to go in. The sliding glass door opened, and Cody appeared, looking groggy and annoyed. "Hey—"

"I was just coming in," said Nick quickly. "Right now." He got up with the help of his cane, and Cody put an arm around him and closed the door behind them, steering him to the bed.

"You're freezing," said Cody. "C'mon, get in bed."

Nick pulled off the bathrobe and slid under the covers, yawning. Cody disappeared. He rubbed his arms a little, hoping he'd warm up quickly.

The covers at the end of the bed were peeled back, and he looked up, only to realize that Cody was putting a hot water bottle over his feet. He melted in relief. "Thanks."

Cody nodded, and then took his hands into his own, rubbing warmth into them. Nick looked up at him and there was a brief flash of something in his eyes, but then it was gone. "Go back to sleep," said Cody softly. He nodded and let himself drift off.

When he woke up again, it was much later, and Cody was gone. He stretched and yawned, feeling a little better than he had in the past couple of days.

While brushing his teeth, his eye fell upon the giant shower. A set of controls on the outside revealed that it could double as a sauna. On the inside, there was a long bench against one wall, and multiple shower heads mounted on the other. There was even a shower wand with a flexible hose.

Rinsing his mouth, he couldn't help but grin. A shower sounded great.

Five minutes later, he was sitting on the bench, hot water sluicing over him. He sighed in contentment. There wasn't any soap, but there was some gel in a bottle that smelled a little exotic. He didn't care, as long as it lathered and in the end he was warm and clean. He finished rinsing off, and then toweled dry.

Cody's towels were as good as a posh hotel's; huge, thick and fluffy. In fact, everywhere he looked there was the best of everything. The real estate game was clearly Cody's game.

He changed into sweats and a t-shirt, and made his way out to the living room, fully expecting to see Cody. He wasn't there, and he wasn't in the kitchen, either, and Nick was about to check the office when Michele emerged from the hallway.

"Mr. Ryder, good morning," she said.

"Nick," he corrected.

"Mr. Allen's showing properties to clients. I'm supposed to call him as soon as you're up."

 _That's right—vacation's over._ "You don't have to—"

"I like to stay on my boss's good side," she said, smiling. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm good." He leaned a little on his cane.

"You're not hungry?" she asked, looking at him skeptically.

"Well, yeah—"

"We have egg whites and veggies. I can make you an omelet—"

"Don't worry, I'll just make some oatmeal." He limped toward the kitchen.

"I'll get it," she sang out, beating him to the cupboard. "You just sit down and relax."

"I can—"

"You can sit down and enjoy, or I can interrupt Mr. Allen's appointment and explain that you're being argumentative."

Nick held up his free hand and sat down. "Okay, I give up."

"I told you," she said, winking at him. "I like to stay on my boss's good side." She put a pot of water on the range and turned on the burner.

"How long have you been working for Cody?"

"A year and a half." She turned on the burner for the tea kettle as well. "I'm in college, and this is the greatest job—the hours are awesome and the pay is good. Plus he's a really great boss." She had a silly grin on her face for a second, and then she turned back to the cupboards and pulled out a box of teabags.

"He's a good guy."

"He's the best!" she said enthusiastically. "When my dog got sick, he let me take off the whole week. And three months ago, when he switched brokers and opened his home office, he started giving me vacation pay and holiday pay. I still can't believe it. I mean, usually this is one of those unpaid intern jobs." She stirred the oatmeal into the water, humming a little.

"What are you studying?"

"Well, I started off with drama, but I didn't really like it, and I switched to economics, but then I didn't like that, so now I'm working on becoming a paralegal. I really like that. Mr. Allen actually suggested it. He pointed out how detail-oriented I am and how I like research, and it just made so much sense." She stirred the oatmeal. The teakettle started to whistle, and she turned off the burner and poured hot water into the cup with the teabag.

"Sounds great." He idly scratched at his neck; he'd missed a couple spots while shaving.

"Here's your tea." She put the cup down next to his hand, and then went back and poured some of the oatmeal into a bowl, which she brought to the table as well.

"Thanks. I mean, really, you didn't have to—"

"It was my pleasure," she said, beaming. "Um, but I have to go check the office. I'm waiting for a fax—" And then she was off.

He was hungry, and managed to polish off all the oatmeal. The tea tasted like blackberries, and he drank the whole cup. Putting the dirty dishes in the sink, he started to limp to the living room.

"Do you know how to work the TV?" asked Michele, coming back into the room.

"Uh...no." He smiled sheepishly at her.

"I could never figure it out, either, so I asked Mr. Allen to make me a cheat sheet. Look, it's here." She turned over one of the remotes, and there was a piece of paper taped to it. Cody's familiar handwriting outlined which buttons to push on the remotes.

"Hey, this is great. Thanks."

"The remote for the TV is the one with the cheat sheet. That's how I always remember."

He sat down and watched as she pushed different buttons, and the screen lit up with the USA Network's logo. He hadn't really been planning on watching TV, but he wasn't sure what else to do. "That's great—"

"I watch a little TV sometimes while I'm on lunch. I love this channel—there are some reruns of shows I used to watch while I was in high school. Miami Vice, Stingray...oh, and they're showing Airwolf 2000 now."

"Airwolf 2000? Really? You like that show?" he said, amused.

"Oh yes, I love it! I never watched the first two series, but this one—Christopher Alexander is so cute!"

"I did some of the stunt piloting for it."

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Really? _Really?_ Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. Check the credits at the end." He shifted a little on the couch, trying not to wince. "

"No way!" she gushed. "My friends won't believe me. That's so cool. Did you actually get to fly Airwolf?"

"Yeah, I did nearly all of the stunt piloting for that chopper for the first two seasons." It had been a great job, and he was still sorry it was over.

"I love the couple on that show. They had such great chemistry." She suddenly looked upset. "Is the show—is that how you got hurt?"

"No. The show was on hiatus, and I was doing a little extra piloting work out of Point Mugu, and one of my friends asked me to do a favor for him because he got sick. The helicopter was a rental, and there was a problem with bad fuel, and it went down."

"That's awful." She looked at him with real sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

"It's one of the risks of being a pilot," said Nick. "Usually we check a sample of the fuel, but this was a quick decision and there just wasn't time." He rubbed the back of his neck.

She was quiet, and then she slipped into the kitchen. She came back with a glass of water and a small dish. "Mr. Allen said you need to take this pill," she said.

"Look, I—"

"He said you'd try to argue with me. He told me I should threaten you. But I don't want to threaten you. I'm really awful at threatening. Can you just take the pill?" She smiled brightly.

He sighed, knowing he was beaten, and took the pill from the dish and accepted the water.

"I'll be in the office if you need anything else." He could hear a phone ringing, and she dashed off down the hallway.

He finally had to lie down to take the pressure off his hip. The remote was next to him, and he picked it up, examining it. He couldn't afford cable, so he'd lived without it for the past year, and he stared at the screen as he scrolled through the different channels, noticing a few different ones. From the looks of it, Cody had every pay channel possible, and then some.

He wondered about his apartment. There was no food left to spoil, and he was sure that nothing had been left turned on. He didn't miss the place much. Not that Cody's house felt like home to him; it was just that the apartment hadn't, either, except as a safe place to sleep.

He thought about it and realized that the one thing the apartment had going for it was that it wasn't just a place; it was his independence, too, from the rehab, from the doctors, from everyone. Living here with Cody seemed like a step backward.

He watched a show about World War II, and then a show about the California gold rush. There wasn't much on after that, and he switched channels aimlessly until he finally turned it off.

He only lasted about five minutes before he fell asleep. He slept fitfully for a few hours, having strange dreams about horses and sailboats, and finally woke up again, feeling vaguely unsettled. In the bathroom he splashed water on his face. Michele's voice rang out, and he toweled dry and limped back out to the living room.

Cody stood there in a suit, looking gorgeous, like he'd just stepped off the cover of a men's magazine. Nick tried not to stare, but the suit was clearly tailored for him; it fit his shoulders like a glove and angled down to his trim waist.

"Did you finish the listings?" asked Cody, reaching up and undoing his tie, tanned fingers hooking the bright blue silk and pulling.

"Oh yes," she said. "Everything except the Paulsens' rerun. They never sent over the pictures."

"As we expected." He exhaled. "That's okay. I'll just stop by tomorrow and pick them up. How about Angela Roberts? Did you contact her about the counteroffer?"

"She wasn't satisfied with it." Michele tapped her pen on her clipboard. "But she said she'd discuss it with you further. And Mr. Lopez called back and accepted the offer." She handed him a piece of paper and he scanned it. "The closing is next week."

"Great, that's great," he said absently. His eyes narrowed. "Am I reading this right? Jenni Harmon wants to sell?"

"Yes," said Michele, sounding excited. "And Mr. Grant has always wanted that property. I think this could be a slam-dunk."

"Great," said Cody with more enthusiasm. He gave her one of his thousand-watt smiles. "We'll have to work on that tomorrow."

"Yes, definitely," she said. "It's the first thing on my list. Well, I'd better get going..." She marched off toward the office.

Cody turned toward Nick, and he was all too aware of how perfect and glowing Cody looked compared with his own dark and haggard appearance. "Hey."

"Did you take a pill?" asked Cody.

"Yeah, yeah. Michele made me." He gave him an amused look.

"Good. What did you eat?" His eyes were piercing.

"I don't know, I didn't make out a food diary," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Oatmeal and tea," supplied Michele, who had put on her jacket and was carrying her purse and a bookbag. "Bye, Mr. Ryder."

"Nick. Bye."

"Bye, Mr. Allen." She gave Cody a big smile before she left.

"You're going to break her heart eventually," said Nick.

Cody blinked. "Michele?"

"No, Mrs. Butterworth. Of course Michele." He felt a little shaky.

Cody looked at him closely. "How about we have some dinner, and then you get in bed."

"Dinner? Cody, it's three o'clock in the afternoon."

"I'm hungry. I didn't have lunch, and it sounds like you didn't, either." He disappeared into the bedroom, and Nick leaned on his cane for a moment before he realized he needed to sit down. He made his way to the kitchen and took a seat.

Cody reemerged, dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, and began to pull things out of the fridge. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked.

"Yeah, on the couch," said Nick, feeling a little prickly from the questioning.

"How long?"

"Look, you want to know all the details? Fine. I got up, pissed, brushed my teeth, took a shower—"

"You took a shower?" Cody whirled around so fast he nearly dropped the package of noodles in his hand.

"Well, I was sitting down..."

He sighed in relief and went back into the fridge. "Then what?"

"Listen, you want me to make a chart?"

"I just want to know you're getting well." He pulled a glass pan out of a cabinet and opened a package of raw chicken. "You had a rough time during the tests, and you need to recuperate."

"Cody, I just..." He rubbed at his forehead, feeling the headache gathering there. "I'm a little confused. I think you're crazy, doing all this."

Cody was still for a long minute. "What if the situations were reversed?" he said softly.

Nick opened his mouth, but no words came out. Just imagining Cody being near-destitute, hurt, living in some fleabag apartment—it scared him so badly he began to shake.

"Nick?" Cody looked frightened. "Do you need to lie down?"

"No, I'm okay." He took a deep breath and clutched at the table. _Cody would never end up like that. He has too many people looking out for him._

"You're as white as a ghost."

"I'll be okay." Another few careful breaths, and he felt the trembling recede. Cody moved away, still looking concerned. "How was your day at the office?" asked Nick, trying to sound casual.

"It was a wild goose chase kind of day." Cody brushed melted butter on the chicken and then poured bread crumbs over it. Nick remembered that dish well; it was something Cody's mother had made for him whenever he wasn't feeling well. "The Lassiters are determined to see every single three million dollar property in Redondo Beach, it seems."

"How many of them are there?"

"Plenty. And I swear I've shown them nearly every one. They bought a house from me last year, and they're just not satisfied."

"Sounds like you should cut them loose."

"Do you have any idea what the commission is on a three million dollar sale?" said Cody, grinning.

"No."

"Let's just say that I'd happily put up with a month's worth of ferrying them around if it means they buy in the end." He put the pan in the oven.

"So you work for yourself?"

"No, not exactly. I have a home office, but the broker I worked for—well, up until three months ago—was a subsidiary of Derek's father's business. I got a better offer from a different broker, though, and part of the deal was that I pretty much get to call the shots and pursue my own clients, plus act as a dual agent in some sales. He does some of the footwork, and the advertising, and takes care of some of the paperwork. I get the lion's share of the commission. It's worked out well so far." He pulled two potatoes out of the pantry and began to scrub them in the sink.

"Do you sell a lot of three million dollar houses?"

"A handful a year, yes." He cut an eye out of one of the potatoes with a paring knife. "Most of the houses I sell are in the million dollar range, though."

"Oh yeah. Only." He chuckled.

"They take a little more time and a bit more care than the low-end homes, the bread and butter of the market, but it's worth it in the end. If you have the right look and the right words, you can go a long way."

 _Cody has the right words, the right looks, the right body..._ He shivered. "So this is what you want to do? Sell houses the rest of your life?"

Cody turned to him, wet potato in hand. "At first, I would have said no. But I've grown to like it. And now that I'm working for Les, I find that it's actually a pretty great business. He thinks I'm on my way to the next level of selling."

"There's a level above three million?"

"Lots of levels, actually. That's why the Lassiters are so important. They have a lot of friends in the community." He put down the potato and picked up the other one and looked at it closely. Satisfied, he pierced them both with a fork, opened the oven and put them on the bottom rack.

Nick scratched at his neck, and then something occurred to him. "Derek's threatening you because you left his dad's company."

Cody tensed. "Yes."

"Now that you're going off on your own, you think he's going to hamstring you by ruining your rep."

"Exactly." He turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter. "I'm in a pretty vulnerable position right now. He could really screw this up for me. And Les."

"You're good," said Nick with confidence. "If the Lassiters have any sense at all, they'll see that. And they'll also see that Derek's a jerk." He suddenly realized what he'd just said.

Cody didn't look pleased. "He's...Nick, you don't know him. And me leaving like that...I took some of their clients, and that's not exactly the nicest thing to do, either."

"I know enough," said Nick. He jabbed a finger at Cody. "Anyone who pulls what Derek pulled isn't a friend."

"That's enough, Nick." Cody fixed him with a glare.

"Fine." Nick settled back in his chair, trying not to wince.

The chicken took an hour to bake, and while they were waiting they went back into the living room to watch the second half of _True Lies_. Since Nick barely remembered the first half, he was a little confused. Plus it kept reminding him of the surreal situation of the night before.

Even more annoying was the bastard couch. He had to keep his right leg flexed to keep from sliding forward. Cody seemed tense, and stayed focused on the movie.

By the ending credits, Nick's jaw was so tight he'd finished giving himself a headache. It was a relief to sit down at the table and get away from the couch. Cody brought out the chicken and the baked potatoes and they ate in silence. Nick's hip ached.

Cody had just finished putting their dishes in the sink when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," he said.

It turned out to be Tim. Nick had entirely forgotten about the test results. He leaned on his cane, standing up carefully, but a jolt of pain still went through his hip.

He heard low voices from the entryway, and he took a hesitant step forward. Hissing a little, he waited until the pain diminished. Cody came into the kitchen and took hold of his arm, guiding him to the bedroom.

"I thought we were going to talk..." He faltered for a moment, leaning more heavily on his cane.

Cody wrapped his arm securely around Nick's waist. "You need to lie down," he said quietly. "I don't really think it matters where he gives you the results."

"But..."

"Lean on me a little more," ordered Cody, and Nick complied. In the bedroom, Cody helped strip off his sweatpants and shirt. He stacked a few pillows and Nick lay down, partially propped up, and then Cody pulled the blankets up to his chest.

"Hey, Nick," said Tim, coming into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," said Nick, trying to relax. He hoped the pain would die down. "Think I'll run a marathon tomorrow."

Tim only smiled faintly. "I'm sure Cody's told you that I'm here to give you the results." He sat down cross-legged on the bed, and Cody followed suit.

"Uh, yeah." It seemed a bit surreal. He'd never known a doctor to make a house call, much less in jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt. Much less sit on a bed like that.

"I'm going to be very straight with you," he said, his eyes serious. "I don't want to sugarcoat anything."

"Good." His opinion of Tim went up a few notches.

"The MRI showed what I suspected. There's some internal scarring, and there are also several small bone fragments floating loose in the socket, and there's a small tear in the labrum."

Nick winced. "I thought they fixed...the tear. The first time."

"They did. This is a new one. It's very small but it will get worse. And the bone fragments—they're contributing to the internal scarring, and they're definitely causing significant discomfort. In fact, after seeing the images, I'm pretty amazed that you can walk, much less stand."

"What are the options?" asked Cody.

Tim kept his gaze focused on Nick. "I know you don't want to hear this, Nick, but you need another surgery. The tear needs to be repaired, and the bone chips need to be removed, along with some of the scar tissue."

Nick exhaled. "And..."

"And if you don't, you'll just do more and more damage until you're confined to a wheelchair. Maybe even a bed."

"Damn," said Nick quietly.

"This isn't quite as risky as the surgery you already had, and the recovery time won't be as long. I've talked to your VA benefits case manager, and the surgery will be covered and can be performed at the VA hospital. The VA rehab wing—"

"He'll stay here, and I can get a nurse—" started Cody.

"No," said Nick. "The Va's fine. I stayed there before, I can stay there again."

"You don't need to stay at the rehab wing. I've looked into home health services, and I can get a nurse to—" said Cody.

"Cody, no," said Nick. _Cody wants to hire a private nurse? This is insane._ "You don't know what it's like after...after surgery like that. It's pretty rough. I'll be okay there."

"I'm glad you understand the situation," said Tim.

"You thought I'd fight about it." Nick tried to shift a little to the right, but his hip twinged.

"Yes, actually." Tim ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I know a really good specialist, and he's performed several surgeries like this, and he's even done a few at the VA hospital before. He has a long waiting list, but one of his patients canceled, and there's a spot for next Monday morning. He wants you to come in for a physical exam, and I've arranged for an appointment on Thursday."

"Okay," said Nick quietly.

"That means that you really need to take it _very_ easy before the surgery," cautioned Tim. "You need to rest as much as possible and stay off your feet. You're not in good physical health right now, and you need to recharge a little before the surgery. Even more important, you don't want to do further damage to your hip. Until those bone fragments are removed, they'll keep causing internal harm."

"I'll try." He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. The bed shifted, and he heard Tim and Cody discussing something before their voices melted away.

Thoughts of surgery and pain filled his head, and he finally banished them, knowing that dwelling on them wouldn't make it any easier. He opened his eyes.

"You need to take a pill." Cody was in front of him, looking worried.

Nick swallowed it with a little water, and Cody helped him lean forward while he pulled pillows out from behind his back. Nick lay down on his right side, blinking drowsily.

"Get some sleep," said Cody, gently stroking his arm.

"G'night." Nick yawned and felt sleep claim him.

* * *

The next morning Nick limped out into the kitchen to find Cody putting his breakfast dishes in the sink. He was dressed in another great suit, again perfectly tailored to fit his frame. Michele was scribbling on a clipboard as he outlined the morning's tasks in a rush of words.

Seeing Nick, he paused, and Michele looked up. "Oh, good morning, Mr. Ryder!"

"Nick," he said to her. "Morning." He sat down carefully.

"That's all I have for you, Michele," said Cody. "And good luck on your exam today."

"Thank you, Mr. Allen," she said, heading off toward the office.

"Today's a school day, so she'll only be here till noon," explained Cody. "I have to show the Lassiters a few more properties—"

"So you'll be gone for a while."

"I'm hoping to get back before she leaves."

"That's probably not enough time for the wild goose chase," said Nick. "Don't worry, I'll be a good boy."

"You need to take it easy," said Cody, moving closer. "Stay off your feet as much as possible. Especially while you're alone. Try to sleep. Michele can make you lunch before she leaves—"

"C'mon, you shouldn't be paying her to play house for me." Nick resettled his leg, frowning. "I can make some oatmeal or something."

"Don't argue with me about this."

The pleading look in Cody's eyes defeated him before he could even get a word out. "Okay. Fine."

"Keep the phone close. I'll try to check in when I can, okay?" His hand touched Nick's shoulder.

"Sure." He grinned. "Go sell 'em a house, big guy."

Cody grinned in return, and Nick basked in the glow of a true Cody smile while it lasted.

"Don't forget to pick up the pictures from the Paulsens," said Michele, coming back into the kitchen.

Cody's hand fell away from his shoulder. "Thanks, Michele, I will."

"And Angela really wants a phone call. Now. I'd call her on your way to pick up the Lassiters." She made another notation on her clipboard.

"That's a great idea." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons, staring at the screen. "Looks like I've got her number. Okay, you two, try not to burn the house down while I'm gone."

"Have a great day," said Michele enthusiastically.

"See you later," said Nick. Cody went through the door to the garage, phone already up to his ear.

"How about some oatmeal?" Michele walked into the kitchen and set her clipboard down on the island. "Same flavor?"

"Sure." His hip throbbed a little and he shifted in his seat.

She dug through the cabinet, pulling out a box. "Have you known Mr. Allen very long?" she asked, a little too innocently.

He had to hide a grin. _Knew it wouldn't be long before she started pumping me for information._ "Yeah, a long time. We met in 'Nam."

"Really?" she asked, turning around, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. I'd been in-country for a couple months when he showed up, fresh from the States." _...looking so lost, with the most beautiful blue eyes..._

"I didn't realize he was a soldier." Her entire body seemed to radiate shock.

"Well, yeah. He did two tours, same as me." He didn't like to think about the last two months of Cody's service, when he'd already been shipped home and couldn't help but wince every time the phone rang, frightened that something'd happened to Cody.

"Wow." She slowly turned back around, and pulled out the box with the instant oatmeal packets. "He really fought in a war? That's...I didn't know."

It wasn't a surprise that he hadn't told her. Cody wasn't secretive about it, but he didn't bring it up often. "Well, a lot of guys don't like to talk about it."

"Were you...friends there?"

"Yeah." _Best friends. And then something more._ "Then later, after we both came home, we started—"

"The detective agency," she interrupted. "I've seen pictures of the boat. The _Riptide_."

He was amused. "I was going to say we were MPs for a little while. And then we did tours..."

"Tours?"

"Yeah. I did aerial tours of King Harbor in my helicopter, and Cody took people waterskiing and did boat tours, too."

"Waterskiing?" She openly gaped at him. "He went waterskiing?"

"Well, usually he took other people waterskiing, but yeah, sometimes he liked to take a turn himself." He remembered occasionally piloting the _Ebb Tide_ so Cody could show off for his latest date.

"I can't even imagine that." She stirred the oatmeal on the stove. "Wow. I mean, he is pretty fit..." She blushed furiously.

 _Damn, she's got it bad._ "So he still has pictures of her? The _Riptide_?"

She nodded. "One morning just a few months ago I came in and they were spread all over the coffee table. I mean, I knew he was paying storage fees on a boat, but I didn't know what it was called or what it looked like until then. Did you—did you really live on it?"

"Yeah." _So he still has her._ Somehow the thought was comforting.

"It looked so small. How could three people live in it?" The tea kettle whistled, and she picked it up and poured hot water into a cup.

 _He must have told her about Murray._ "Well, it was a bit tight, but then again, it was pretty great. We could take off whenever we felt like it, travel up the coast, head out to sea to do some fishing..."

"It sounds kind of...like escaping." She frowned a little. "I think...Mr. Allen sometimes..." She seemed to come back to herself and then looked at him askance. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay. I know what you mean. It _was_ an escape. And sometimes it even came with a free fish dinner." He smiled, hoping to put her at ease.

She put the bowl of oatmeal in front of him, a dish with a pill, and a cup of tea, but he noticed that she still looked a little out of sorts. "I have some paperwork to finish," she said, and left.

 _It always hurts when your hero gets a little tarnished._ He sighed and dipped his spoon into the oatmeal. He knew from firsthand experience. He'd found his dad stealing money from his piggy bank when he was five. _"I'll put it right back, son."_ He'd believed him, too, until a week later, when he found it emptied.

The oatmeal was a bit too hot, and he sat and waited for it to cool. He took a sip of tea. Blackberry again. His hip ached a little, and he took the pill.

The oatmeal was too sweet, but he didn't mind. He ate it all and then stashed the dishes in the sink. He wondered if Michele loaded the dishwasher or if Cody did that.

Back on the couch, he watched a few shows and then tuned out to a martial arts movie. He heard Michele rattling around in the kitchen.

"Mr. Ryder, lunch is ready," she said, coming into the room.

"Nick," he corrected again. "My name's Nick." She only smiled in return.

 _I wonder if she calls Cody "Mr. Allen" when she's daydreaming she's in bed with him._ He hid a small grin and sat down.

"I'm leaving really soon," she said, looking a little distracted. "Just let me know if there's anything else you need." She left the kitchen.

Lunch was soup and crackers, along with more tea. The soup was from a can, some kind of chicken noodle. He ate nearly half of it, and then put it in the fridge with plastic wrap on top. The tea was unusual, orange-flavored, and he drank the entire cup before putting it in the empty sink. _So she does the dishes, too._

After hitting the restroom, he went back out into the living room and started watching the sequel to the horrible movie that had been on before. The phone rang, and he got up and went into the kitchen to pick it up. Cody was checking in, just like he'd said he would, but he sounded very subdued, and Nick had a feeling that the Lassiters were nearby. "I drank all the beer in the fridge, honey, so you'll need to pick up more on your way home," said Nick.

There was a slight intake of breath, and then he could hear the grin in Cody's voice. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but no."

"Damn. Well, worth a try."

"See you later."

"Later." Nick hung up and went back out to the couch. His hip started to ache a little more; it was probably almost time for another pill.

"Bye, Mr. Ryder!" called out Michele. "See you Thursday."

"Thanks, Michele," he answered. He heard the front door shut, and the key in the lock.

A half hour later, he turned off the TV and got up, meaning to look for the painkillers. There was a knock at the door, and he frowned. Cody would have come in through the garage, and wouldn't be knocking. Michele would have just used her key.

The knocking grew louder. Swearing, he made his way to the door and opened it.

"Hey, Nick," said Derek, walking in like he owned the place.

For a moment Nick was shocked, but then he remembered how jerks like Derek operated, and he wasn't surprised. "I don't need any Avon, thanks." He shut the door behind him and waited.

Derek gave him an amused look. "Looks like you've made yourself at home."

The only way to deal with creeps like him was the direct way. "Cut to the chase. What do you want?" He wished he could fold his arms across his chest, but he needed to lean on the cane.

"So predictable," said Derek. "I need to talk to you."

"Okay. Talk."

"Out on the patio."

"What's the difference?" asked Nick. "Say what you want to say—"

"It's about Cody. And his future."

He'd been about to say _or leave_ , but that stopped him. It was the only thing Derek could have said that would make him pay attention. Which was probably what the bastard was counting on.

Derek had already headed off toward the patio, going through the master bedroom instead of the door off the living room. Nick hesitated for a second, but he couldn't help it; he had to follow. The pain in his hip ratcheted up several degrees and he regretted the decision before he even reached the door.

On the patio, Derek stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking like Lord Emperor of the Backyard. Nick nearly rolled his eyes.

"You know, Nick, when they first moved in, I gave them this pool as a housewarming gift. I said that life in LA wasn't worth living without a pool."

"Great. Now tell me about Cody." He tried to control his breathing, not wanting Derek to know the walk had worn him out.

Derek turned to face him. "Cody's been my friend for a long time. I helped him—"

"Yeah, I know," said Nick. "You gave him his start in business. Get to the point."

"As I was saying," continued Derek with a bit of annoyance, "I helped him in the early years. I introduced him to the right people and got him invited to the right parties. He was selling crappy condos until I got involved."

"And now he's left your dad's business, and you're pissed. The golden goose isn't sharing his commission with you any longer." His hip throbbed intensely.

"You've figured out the situation. Good." Derek smiled an unfriendly smile. "I don't think he understands what he's cost the broker. He took several key contacts with him. If he—"

"Listen, if you think I can convince him to go back, you're wrong. Dead wrong."

"Wrong again. He _will_ listen to you. You need to talk him into it—"

"No."

"If you don't, then I'm worried that the broker might try using smear tactics to ruin his business. There are things about him that, were they to get to the wrong ears, could cause a lot of problems for him."

"You're an asshole," said Nick, jabbing his finger in the air. "I'm not doing anything for you. And stop making it sound like it's the broker and it's not you."

Derek stared at him for a long moment. Then he seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. "The asshole in this situation is _you_ ," he said, his expression suddenly dangerous. "I know your type. You're in trouble, you've fallen on hard times, so instead of panhandling, you find an old friend—an ex who's become successful—and you latch on like a fucking leech and suck him dry."

All of the blood ran out of Nick's face. He clenched his hands in anger. "You—"

"Jake was my best friend." Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "Since third grade, when he moved here from Nevada." He seemed to struggle for words. "We always worked at the same company together. Partied together. I was happy when he found Cody. Cody was a wreck at first, but Jake fixed that. They were good together. They built something. When Jake got killed, it was fucked up. Biggest waste ever." He looked Nick straight in the eyes. "It took a while for Cody to climb out of that hole. I thought he'd never recover, but he did. But now you're here, and you're fucking everything up. You're the asshole. You're the one who's going to ruin everything for him. You fucked him over big time before, and you'll do it again. And you'll leave him in the dirt, just like you did last time. You'll use him for every cent you can, and—"

Nick saw red. "First of all," he said, jabbing his finger in the air, " _he_ was the one who brought me here. He's the one who insisted on me staying—"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure he had to tie you to the bed to get you to stay." Derek rolled his eyes. "You know what? You're an even bigger douchebag than I thought."

"I'm not like you," said Nick, seething. "That sounds like your MO—latch onto someone and use him. Just like you did with Jake. Just like you're doing with Cody. I only have one thing to say to you: stay the fuck away from him."

"I'm not the one on the couch, with a call to Tim every five minutes," snarled Derek. "I'm not the one with my head in Cody's crotch—"

" _Get out_." It took all of his self-control not to haul off and break his nose.

"Fine." Derek stalked off through the door.

Nick stood there, breathing in and out, trying to calm down. His anger was so strong he could taste it in the back of his throat.

The pain in his hip finally broke through. _Need a painkiller. Now._

Kitchen, or bathroom? There could be a bottle in either place. He went back in through the sliding door and checked the bathroom because it was nearest. His hand shook as he opened the medicine cabinet. No pills.

He made his way to the kitchen slowly. Each step hurt worse than the last, and he felt light-headed. The last time he'd seen a bottle of pills it was on the island, but as he got close, he noticed that it wasn't there.

 _Damn. I need one now. Maybe even two._ He opened a couple of cabinets, but found nothing. His hip sent out a flare of agony so strong that he had to hold onto the counter until it passed. Breathing heavily, he realized that he'd pushed himself too far. He had to lie down.

He leaned on his cane, heading for the living room, and got halfway there when another white-hot spike of pain went through him, and his legs turned wobbly.

His physical therapist had always said not to lie down on the floor because it was so difficult to get back up. He'd also said that, given a choice between falling and lying down, lying down was always the better choice.

It wasn't elegant, but he managed to get on the floor, panting. His hip was on fire and the room spun violently. _Shouldn't have gone out on the patio. That was stupid. Should have sat down, at least._ He pressed his eyes shut, hands flat on the berber carpet. _Breathe._ Exhaustion weighed him down.

He stayed still, and eventually the pain subsided enough for him to think about getting up again. If he could get to the phone, he could call Cody. As much as he hated to do it, he had no choice.

Getting his right leg situated so he could stand up meant that he had to lift his torso with shaky arms and position his foot underneath him. He wasn't certain he could, but he couldn't think of anything else, short of just lying on the floor and waiting for Cody to come home. He braced his cane against the floor and used it as leverage to take some of the strain off his leg.

At first it worked. His leg was shaky but he managed to get halfway up, taking his right hand off the floor and putting it on the cane instead. He looked around for the closest phone. It was in the kitchen.

The cane slid to the left a little, and he compensated without thinking, shifting his body, and a flash of pain roared through his hip. His left leg crumpled, and he let go of the cane, putting out both hands and his right knee, barely managing to catch himself on the floor. The pain in his hip nearly shattered him, and for a moment everything was dim and remote, spots dancing in his vision.

Agony flared again, and he panted weakly. He had no strength left, and he slid the rest of the way down to the floor. Even if the phone had been in his hand, he doubted he could have dialed.

 _Cody..._

He wished that Cody would walk through the door. This was too much like lying on the side of the mountain, broken and bleeding. He'd wished for Cody then, too.

An hour passed, and then another. The light coming in from the front windows was growing longer, stretching out across the white carpet. The pain grew stronger, making him whimper. _Cody, please..._

 _Gotta get to the phone._ He lifted himself up on his elbows and pulled forward a little, crawling across the carpet. Pain blazed in his hip, but he set his jaw, determined. Another few inches. Another. He gritted his teeth and planted his elbows—

A vicious electric shock of agony coursed through his whole leg, the jolt so painful that he swore, tears springing to his eyes. The room grew smaller and smaller. The edges frayed, and darkness swamped his vision. Blinking, he panted on the floor, staring at something white. A white wall. Carpeting under his cheek. For a strange, disconnected moment he couldn't figure out how he'd gotten there.

Agony pulsed in his hip, harsh and grating, so much worse than his usual pain that he moaned out loud. _Must have blacked out._ The spinning was worse, leaving him in doubt about which direction the phone was really in, and he had to give up. It was all on Cody now. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he had no idea when he'd come home.

The phone rang. It seemed like it was very far off. He was cold and getting colder, shivering on the floor, everything spinning so fast that he couldn't open his eyes or risk getting sick. There was a garbled noise from the answering machine.

He was cold, but his hip was on fire. He tried to keep on breathing through the pain as he'd done so many times, but this was out of control. A wildfire, the flames raging in his hip. _Bend, don't break_.

A loud slam startled him. The floor vibrated with a strange pounding noise. He heard his name and opened his eyes, confused. Cody was in front of him, eyes wide with terror. "Nick! _Nick!_ Can you hear me?" He struggled to reply but couldn't manage it.

Cody jabbed buttons on his cell phone and sounded half-demented as he poured words into it, none of which Nick could make heads or tails of.

He put the phone down. "Did you fall, Nick?" he asked urgently. Nick blinked, long and slow, as Cody's face spun around his vision. " _Did you fall?_ "

"N-no," said Nick.

"Are you sure?"

He tried to answer, but could only nod. More words, Cody sounding a little calmer, and then he dropped the phone to the carpet. "Nick, stay with me. You didn't fall?"

"No." He closed his eyes, exhausted.

"Think you can put your arms around my neck?"

Confused, he reopened his eyes.

"C'mon, Nick," pleaded Cody. "Just try, baby, try."

Reaching up, Nick put his right arm around, and then his left.

"Put your hands together. Just a little more, and then you can rest. Please, Nick." On the third try he somehow managed to grab his left wrist with his right hand, and heard Cody make a noise of relief. "Okay. I'm going to pick you up. Just hold on." Cody's right arm was behind his knees, his left locked around his ribs, and then suddenly he was being carried. He buried his face in Cody's neck. The jolt sent a flare of pure misery through his hip, and he whimpered. "It's okay, baby, almost there," murmured Cody. "Almost there."

The bed was under him, and Cody was pulling off his clothes with careful hands. Nick shivered weakly, closing his eyes in sheer exhaustion, and he felt a blanket cover him.

Tim's calm voice dueled with Cody's panicked voice. Nick looked up, and Tim said something reassuring while cool hands probed his hip. He hissed in pain. "Try to relax, Nick." Fire shot through his hip and he moaned.

"Can't you give him something now?" asked Cody.

There was a sharp, familiar pain in his arm, and for a long moment he lay there, confused. Things were getting darker, everything was sliding away from him, and then a black wave of sleep rolled over him, dragging him down into its depths.


	6. Chapter 6

A ringing noise. And then again. Nick felt himself drawn out of the dark. He heard a familiar voice, and the mattress shifted as a weight sank onto the bed next to him.

"...I don't understand. Bringing something? Bringing what?" There was a long pause, and then Cody's voice started anew, quiet and full of emotion. "Oh god, Tammi, I totally forgot about dinner tonight. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." Pause. "I don't even know where to start." Pause. "I came home and he was on the floor—" Pause. "No, he didn't fall. He says he didn't. I mean, I couldn't get much out of him, but he seemed pretty certain. And Tim couldn't find any signs that he had, except his right knee was a little bruised." Pause. "I know, I know, it was...pretty bad." Nick felt the brush of Cody's hand on the back of his neck and nearly startled. "Up until today, he was doing better, and he was supposed to go to a specialist on Thursday, and have surgery on Monday..."

Cody's hand started to stroke his hair gently, and Nick relaxed under the touch.

"Tim had everyone rush the tests, because he was worried that Nick would need a hip replacement. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like he does. They're just going to go in and take out some bone chips—Tim can explain it better than I can. He did say that Nick is in a lot of pain right now. But now this happens, and it's a setback..." Cody sounded frustrated. "Well, there's no way he can have surgery next Monday. He won't even be able to see Doctor Coen on Thursday, in fact." Long pause. "There's a chance that someone else's surgery can be moved forward, and then Nick would go in a week from Friday instead. But I don't know yet." Pause. "Tim said as long as he stays off his feet and rests, he should be recovered enough." Pause. "That's very sweet, Tammi, and I appreciate it, but I've already canceled all my appointments tomorrow and Thursday. I'll let you know, though, if I need your help. I'm really sorry we can't have dinner tonight; I know he was looking forward to it." Pause. "He's dead to the world right now. Tim gave him a pretty strong shot."

Fingers caressed the back of his neck, and Cody shifted on the bed again. Nick could feel the fog pressing on his brain, and he submerged again, falling into a dream.

At first the darkness was calm and peaceful, and he curled up inside, snug and warm. But then it turned into something sinister, something angry and painful, and the more he tried to get away from it, the more it pressed down on him until he was shuddering in terror.

He became aware of someone calling his name quietly, and then he opened his eyes. Cody 's hands were warm on his face, and his eyes were worried, searching his. Nick swallowed and felt the tension fade even as the pain in his hip intensified.

"Are you in pain?" asked Cody. "Do you need anything?"

"Hurts," he said roughly. Cody reached over and opened a small bottle, pouring out two pills into his hand. Nick didn't argue, just took them, letting Cody support him as he drank a swallow of water.

"What happened?" asked Cody. "Why were you on the floor?"

His brain was still moving in circles, exhausted and confused. "After he left...needed a pill."

"He?" said Cody, and a look of wariness came over his face. "Who?"

"Couldn't find the pills." Nick's eyes slid shut.

"Nick, who was he? Who were you talking about?" Cody's fingers lightly stroked his cheek.

He reopened his eyes. It was hard to concentrate. Cody's face shifted and blurred. _Am I dreaming this?_ "Said I was a leech."

An angry light suddenly flashed in Cody's eyes. "Derek? Was it Derek who told you that?"

Nick drew back a little, frightened, but Cody's hands were soothing. He couldn't figure out if he was supposed to tell him or not. "Yeah."

"And then what?" Under the surface, he sounded furious, and Nick blinked, confused.

"Said for you to go back...I should make you..."

"Back to his father's company."

"Yeah."

"Then what did he do?"

"Told him to go away. Stay away from you. He left. Couldn't find the pills, and had to...didn't want to fall..." His eyelids wouldn't stay open, and he stopped trying to fight it. Cody's hands were warm and felt like home, and then he was asleep.

* * *

Sunshine woke Nick. He lay in bed, his thoughts rolling in his head in an unusual way, but after a few minutes, it passed. He shifted a little.

Cody was next to him, reclining on top of the covers, reading a real estate magazine. He took off his reading glasses and put them and the magazine on the side table. "How are you feeling?"

"Need to..."

"Okay. We'll take it slow." Cody helped him out of bed and across to the bathroom, and after he'd relieved himself, brought him right back, ignoring his protests about wanting to brush his teeth.

Turned out Cody knew what he was doing, because his legs turned to rubber and he barely made it back. Exhausted, he let Cody tuck him in again, and he lay still, letting his body relax.

"Are you hurting?" asked Cody quietly.

The pain seemed to be at a low ebb, and from the feel of the murk in his head, he was still under the influence of the pills. "No," he said.

"Can you tell me what happened?" An angry light was in his eyes, and Nick realized that it hadn't been a dream; he'd already spilled part of the story. He recounted the rest haltingly, and Cody listened intently, one hand on his arm.

"...and then you came home," mumbled Nick. "So glad to see you."

"Just sleep, Nick." Cody's voice was soothing, and within moments Nick was asleep again.

He woke by degrees. He could smell coffee, and hear the occasional turn of a page. The creak of the bed. Eventually he got his eyes open and he turned to see Cody reading a paperback.

"What..." He coughed and tried again. "What time is it?"

Cody took his glasses off in a flash. "Two o'clock." He looked at him closely. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." His hip was throbbing, but it wasn't bad enough for a pill. "What are you doing home?" Too late he remembered overhearing that he'd canceled his work.

"Don't worry about it," said Cody. "I'll go get you something to eat. Just try to take it easy, okay?" There was an expression of tenderness on his face, but it was gone so quickly that Nick wondered if he'd imagined it.

He frowned. "I can eat in the kitchen—"

"No." Cody's tone was so firm that Nick blinked in surprise. "You're staying in bed for two days, at the very least. Just lie still. I'll be right back."

He nodded, and watched as Cody gracefully got off the bed. His mind still felt a little scattered, slowly rotating, and he tried to take long, slow breaths. Cody came back after just a few minutes with two mugs, one of tea and one full of broth.

The broth was too hot, so Nick sipped the tea, noticing that his hands trembled just a little. Cody lay down next to him, close, and Nick could smell his musky scent, could feel the heat of his body. It felt so natural and comfortable, but there was also a feeling of pain and loss. _A new relationship with the ghost of the old._ He shivered and Cody looked concerned. "Are you cold?"

"No. I'm okay." He put the mug of tea down and tried the broth again. It had cooled a little, and he took a few sips.

"I called Rick." Cody looked down at the pastel comforter.

"Rick?" asked Nick, baffled.

"You know, Rick—" Cody looked at him sharply. "Or maybe you don't know. Rick's the broker I used to work for."

"Derek's broker."

"Well, in a sense. It isn't like Derek is really an agent...but that's complicated."

"So you called him?" He set down the mug.

"Yeah. I told him that I wasn't coming back, no matter what Derek said. In no uncertain terms. I really...I didn't know what Derek had told him. Plus, I wanted to smooth things over about...about how I left. Turns out he'd pretty much expected it. In fact, he was surprised I'd stayed so long, considering the low commission."

"So that's good, then."

Cody still looked a little guilty. "I guess so. Anyway, after I got off the phone with him, I called Derek's father."

Surprised, Nick stared at him.

"I told him to get his son under control." He exhaled. "I didn't tell him all of the jerk maneuvers he's made over the years, but I did hint at a few things. And I told him that if Derek came near you again, I'd use my old PI contacts to dig up information about him, and turn it over to the police."

"What?"

"I don't want him..." He shuddered. "Nick, I don't want to find you like that ever again."

"Cody, c'mon, man. I'm okay. I just...I should have been a little smarter and known that he was playing games."

"I don't think you understand," said Cody. "Your pain medication—it was missing. All of it. He must have taken it all on his way out the door. Tim had to call in new prescriptions."

"Damn." Nick shivered.

"He probably figured that you wouldn't agree to anything he said, so he wanted to send a message to me. So I had to counter with a message to him. The only real chance of him hearing it is if it comes from his father."

"It might piss him off more. Back him in a corner..."

"I don't think so," said Cody. "Usually his father can get through to him. Plus, he has a new mark at the brokerage. I think this was a last-ditch attempt."

Nick couldn't resist throwing a barb. "Still think he's not a jerk?"

"He is a jerk—but he's—you don't know him. He's not..." Cody rubbed his temples, looking very tired.

"Look, I'm sorry. Maybe he's sweet when you overlook the threats and the stealing."

"Don't push me on this." Cody looked at him, hurt. "You have no idea what he went through when Jake died. How much he helped me out. How he got me out of the pit I was in."

"What about last week?" asked Nick. Cody gave him a confused look. "When you went into another pit?"

"I don't know—"

"Come off it, Cody, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Nick glared at him. "What were you really gonna do? Because you sure as hell weren't going to Acapulco."

"You don't..." Cody closed his eyes, visibly shaken.

"It doesn't take a genius. You were thinking about eating your gun."

He reopened them, and pain came through, loud and clear, before it was shuttered. "I...thought about it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. My mother..."

"And now?"

"No. You don't have to worry about...that."

"Good," said Nick through a throat that seemed to be closing up. "Because..." Cody gathered him into his arms and soothed him as he shuddered, tears leaking from his eyes. "I couldn't..."

"It's okay, Nick, I promise," said Cody quietly. Nick took a shaky breath and clung to him. For just a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, that they were still connected at the deepest level, their love a calm place to rest. But then it faded. The tears slowed, and stopped.

Finally under control, Nick leaned back against the pillows, head swimming. _Enough of the sad stuff._ "You'd better not, because it'd kill Michele. She's so lovesick over you..."

"I don't know. I think I might have competition now." Cody grinned, looking at him.

Nick actually laughed at that. "I'm a fossil. She's not the slightest bit interested, unless I can introduce her to Chris Alexander. Now, you...you're a fossil too, but you're a tanned, hunky fossil..."

"Never heard that before," said Cody, chuckling. "But who's Chris Alexander?"

"The guy from Airwolf 2000."

"Oh yeah. The show you worked for."

"You knew about that?"

Cody shrugged. "There aren't many helicopter shows out there, and as soon as I saw the piloting, I knew it had to be you."

"It was a good show." Nick exhaled. "They cared about the choppers. Safety. Everything. You don't always see that."

"Do you still keep in touch with them?"

"No. The show was on a long hiatus when I had the accident, and you know how that goes. They sent a card, I think, some flowers or something."

"No Christopher Alexander visit?"

"Hell no. He's too busy, out there getting laid." Nick shifted a little and grimaced.

"Do you need a pill?"

"No," said Nick, too quickly. Cody gave him a skeptical look. "Look, I don't need a pill for every little twinge..."

Cody raised his eyebrows. "I'd hardly call the pain you're in a _twinge_."

"I can—"

"Nick, if you wait too long, the pain stacks up, and then it wears you out trying to deal with it. I know you're not happy to be taking them, but for right now, it's the best course."

"Okay, fine." He held up his hands in surrender.

Cody looked relieved, and picked up a pill bottle from one of the nightstands. Nick held out his hand and he shook a single pill into it. Nick swallowed it down with a sip from the now-cold tea.

He lay there for a moment, looking at the ceiling. "Two days in bed?"

Cody nodded. "And then we'll talk about whether or not you can get up on the third day."

Nick groaned. "You're worse than the doctors."

Cody only chuckled and went back to reading his magazine.

* * *

When Nick woke again, it was nearly dark out. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. Cody was next to him, scribbling notes on a pad of paper, one of the real estate books spread out in front of him. He turned and smiled. "Hungry?"

Nick cleared his throat. "Yeah. First, though..." He started to sit up, clenching his jaw at the immediate spark of pain in his hip.

"Careful," murmured Cody, helping him out of bed. This time he let Nick brush his teeth.

After he got back in bed, Cody disappeared, heading for the kitchen. The pain was tolerable, barely so, and he lay still, letting his mind wander.

That Cody had thought about suicide made his stomach lurch, and he tried not to imagine what it would have been like if they hadn't met at the party, if Cody'd gone through with it, if he'd heard about it through the grapevine. He had to take a few deep breaths and blink back tears.

In his heart, though, he knew that Cody couldn't have gone through with it. He believed him when he said that. There weren't any pictures anywhere in the house except for one of his mother, which was displayed on a shelf in the headboard. Even though she hadn't been the perfect parent to him growing up, she still loved him deeply and he loved her, and he knew that Cody couldn't have done that to her.

But just the fact that he'd thought of it was unsettling. _Why?_ Jake had been dead for two years. Nick's relationship with him had been over for five years, along with the agency and their friendship with Murray.

Maybe it was like a castle built of playing cards. _Maybe something got stacked on top that just made it all fall._

He frowned. It seemed like Cody should be on an upswing. He'd broken away from his old brokerage to make more money, he was more successful than ever, and the future looked bright.

Then he remembered the cold look in his eyes, how he masked his feelings, how his walls had grown so high. Cody liked to eat his pain, turn it inward, liked to suffer in silence while he went for long walks alone on the beach.

Well, at least he used to go for long walks alone on the beach. It had taken years for Nick to get to come along for those walks on the beach. _And I threw that all away. All that trust, all that love._ Who knew what Cody did now, except whatever it was he did, he did it alone, even if he was surrounded by people.

His hip hurt, and he shifted a little in the bed. He could guess that Cody avoided the beach now, instead immersing himself in work, in the shallow thrill of the chase at clubs, in getting drunk and forgetting about everything else. _He might not be taking a fifth of vodka to bed with him at night, but he's drinking a helluva lot of wine._

What a mess.

"Nick? Are you okay?" Cody set a tray down on the nightstand. "It's a little early for another pill..."

"I'm fine."

Cody put his hand on his forehead, as if checking for fever. His fingers felt wonderfully warm. "I could call Tim, see if it's okay to take another pill sooner—"

"No, man, I'm fine. Really. What's for dinner?"

"Soup." He took his hand away, almost reluctantly, and helped Nick sit up against a stack of pillows.

"Sounds good." He ignored the twinge in his hip and took the bowl from Cody. More of the chicken noodle from the other day, and he finished it.

"Still hungry?" asked Cody. "How about a baked potato? Some carrots?"

"Sure." Nick settled back against the pillows. It was dark out now, but he felt awake. _Sleeping all day will do that._

Cody returned with more food, and sat down on the bed. There was another cup of weak tea, and a glass of water, and Nick ate what he could and drank all of the tea. The last mouthful was sweet with honey.

"Thanks." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, and Cody took away the dirty dishes. Moving sent another electric jolt through his hip, so he took the hint and stayed still.

The cathedral ceiling was a vast expanse of bluish-white, and he stared at the pristine walls, lit by recessed lights. There were a few pastel paintings on the walls, nondescript, like the kind in hotels. He heard a clatter of dishes in the kitchen and then Cody came back in with a cup of coffee. Nick stared longingly at it.

"Sorry, buddy, none for you," said Cody, managing to sound apologetic as he sat down on the bed.

"Yeah." The tension had bled away, and he felt pleasantly sated. "Cody...thanks. You're the best nurse I've ever had."

Cody snorted. "I'll bet you say that to all of them." He put the notebook and the listing magazine on the nightstand.

"Nah, just you." He eased his torso to the right just a little, hoping to take some of the weight off, but only succeeded in causing another shock of pain. There was a look of distress in Cody's eyes for a moment. "I'm okay, really," he said when he could.

The light illuminated the side of Cody's face, picking up the silver in his hair. He leaned forward, pulling down the blankets and sheet until Nick's hip was exposed. Reaching up into a cabinet in the headboard, he pulled out a bottle of oil and a couple hand towels and flipped open the lid.

"Cody, you..."

"Shh." Cody peeled his underwear down and poured oil on his hip. The feel of his warm fingertips and the cool oil made Nick gasp. "Just relax." There was a grin in his voice as he said, "Bet none of the nurses did this..."

"Nope. Just the massage therapist." Cody's fingers were intensely soothing, and he closed his eyes and lay there, enjoying his touch. "And she was nowhere this good."

Bit by bit, the knotted muscles began to loosen, and he slowly turned to jelly. Cody's hands glided over the brutal scars left from the accident and the surgery, and he sighed in pleasure.

He heard Cody opening the bottle again, and then there was a subtle touch to his leg, and Nick's eyes snapped open. "Uh—"

Cody stopped. "I'm just trying to help," he said quietly.

"I just...I don't think..." Nick exhaled. "I know what you're trying to do, but I can't." _I can't see that coldness in your eyes afterward._

Cody's eyes flashed with hurt, and then he nodded stiffly. "I understand." He recapped the oil and toweled him off gently.

"Thanks." Nick resettled his head into the pillow as Cody pulled the blankets up over him. He thought he'd fall asleep immediately, especially after the massage, but there was a taste of melancholy in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but feel guilty somehow. He watched as Cody turned on a reading light in the headboard and then got up and turned off the lights in the room. Back on the bed, he put on his glasses again and began to flip through the listings book.

Nick's dreams were crowded with dark images. He tried to escape them, but they came closer, shoving him down, running their hands across him, and he panicked and pushed them away.

He came awake suddenly, hearing Cody curse and realizing that his wrists were held in a strong grip. "Nick, wake up—"

"I'm awake," he said, his voice rough. Cody let go and settled him back in bed. "Sorry. Just...bad dream." His hip throbbed like fire.

Cody gave him a pill and he swallowed it dry. Looking up at Cody, whose face was lit by the tiny light on the headboard, he could see his eyes were blank and distant. He shuddered and swallowed again, feeling like the pill was stuck in his throat.

Cody padded off to the bathroom, and Nick huddled under the covers, feeling miserable. The pain grew, and he hissed through his teeth, trying to ride it out.

The situation was growing stranger by the day. He was here, in Cody's bed; hell, he was in Cody's hands. His stomach lurched. He was starting to care again, care about the wall that separated them, care about the zombie he'd turned into, care about what happened to him.

 _He's just paying off some weird cosmic debt. After you go into surgery that'll be it. Done. Back to the apartment. And then you'll have round three hundred and twelve of medical bills, and you'll have to pay him back, and—_

Frustrated, he hissed out another breath. _Slow down. Take it one day at—_

"Nick?" Cody's hand was on his shoulder. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

Surprised, Nick looked up at him. "No—I'm okay. Fine."

"Maybe Tim can prescribe you some sleeping pills." Cody frowned.

 _Speaking of zombies..._ "No, man, I'm fine. Really." He shifted a little and winced at the flare of pain.

"You're hurting, I can tell," insisted Cody.

"It'll kick in soon. I'll be fine." Nick adjusted his right arm, flexing his fingers, which tingled.

Cody didn't look convinced, but he pulled off his bathrobe and got in bed, turning off the light. Nick could hear him breathing and knew he wasn't asleep, could tell he wasn't even near being asleep with the sureness of someone who'd slept next to him, wrapped around him, for years. He concentrated on breathing in and out, trying to go through the pain to the other side, but it wasn't helping much. He kept remembering that flash of hurt on Cody's face.

He slid into sleep and into a murky sea, drifting aimlessly on a tiny raft. The sun was hidden by clouds and the sky was an endless grey. He was cold and thirsty and alone, adrift on an unknown current.

No land in front of him and no land behind him. There was no wind, and the air was dead and stale. No birds in the air. Not a ripple on the water.

Miles from home.

He woke, a bitter taste in his mouth, his cheeks wet with tears, Cody's even, peaceful breathing next to him. Shaking, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, trying not to wake him.

* * *

By the time Nick opened his eyes again, it was late morning. Cody sat on the other side of the bed, notebook in hand, a few magazines spread out on the comforter.

"Morning," said Nick, his voice a little scratchy. His eyes burned.

"Good morning," said Cody, looking at him with not a little concern.

He sat up slowly, feeling the ache in his hip fiercely. He'd lain awake part of the night, consumed with thoughts of the dream, and he felt disjointed and tired. Cody was there, helping him to the bathroom and back and not saying a word. Back in bed, Nick simply huddled under the covers, his stomach in knots. Cody tried to talk him into eating but he fell asleep instead.

When he woke up again, he felt a little better. Cody was engrossed in writing notes in his notepad; papers and magazines and newspapers were spread over every inch of his side of the bed.

"Hey," he croaked.

Cody dropped the pen, startled, and stared at him. Then a relieved smile came to his face. "Hey. How are you feeling? You want something to eat?"

He nodded. "Yeah, great."

"Okay. Just take it easy and I'll be back." He set down his notepad and stood up, stretching for a moment, and then headed toward the kitchen.

Nick got up, a headache hammering behind his forehead. In the bathroom, he stared at the mirror, noticing his red-rimmed eyes, and sighed.

"Which part of staying in bed didn't you understand?" said Cody, standing in the doorway.

"Sorry," he said. Cody looked in his eyes, his mouth half-open to say something, but then he just nodded, coming up next to him and winding his arm around his waist.

"Lean on me," he murmured, and Nick did, grateful for the support. _Damn dream._ Back in bed, Cody had a plate waiting for him, with mashed potatoes and grilled chicken and steamed carrots. He ate, washing it down with more tea.

"I spoke to Doctor Coen," said Cody, fingering the comforter. "He has an opening tomorrow for an appointment."

"Great," said Nick, settling back into the pillows. "Think you have time to run me out there and back?"

"Of course," said Cody. "I'm just worried that you're not up to it."

"It's an exam, not a triathlon." Nick scratched his neck. "Maybe Tammi could give me a ride instead. She doesn't work on Fridays."

"I'm taking you." Cody's tone was firm.

"Look, you've got work to do. I can't—you can't keep nursemaiding me like this. You've got clients..."

"I'll decide what I can and can't do."

"So you decide for both of us?" Nick was annoyed. "Look, it's just my hip, not my brain. I scheduled plenty of appointments and got to them, too."

"You could still drive, then."

"I can still drive _now_. You're the one who decided I..." He took a deep breath and realized that he was going down the wrong path. "Look, I just don't want to screw up your business. The beginning of something like this, you gotta be careful, and you can't waste so much time—"

"It's not a waste," interrupted Cody. "Nick, I don't want to argue about this. I have the time. The question here is whether you'll be up for the appointment or not."

"I'm up for it." Now that surgery had become unavoidable, he wanted it done as soon as possible.

Cody looked dubious, but finally nodded. "Okay, we'll try it. Tomorrow afternoon."

"Try it?" echoed Nick.

"I reserve the right to take you home—or not take you at all—if it looks like you're in too much pain."

 _Then I'll just make sure I don't look like I'm in pain._ "Fine."

"Fine." Cody gave him a final look that was difficult to interpret. "Michele will be here tomorrow morning, and she's going to help with the Lassiter purchase. The appointment isn't until two. Then on Saturday I have an open house to deal with from ten until three. I can't get out of it. Tim's going to come over—"

"Tim?" asked Nick, incredulous. "On a Saturday? Cody, the bill is gonna be unbelievable."

"I've got it all worked out with him," said Cody. "Don't worry about his bill."

"I'll be fine by myself."

"Sure." Cody smoothed out the comforter with his hand. "And you'll be even better with him here."

He opened his mouth to argue further, but one look from Cody stopped him. "Okay."

"Good." Cody looked relieved.

"So...the Lassiters bought a house?"

Cody's whole face brightened. "Yeah—a five million dollar property in Hermosa Beach. Great view of the ocean, five and a half bathrooms—"

" _Five_ million?"

"Usually I show within the client's price range, but I had a gut feeling about that house. June just about went through the roof when she saw it, and even Ron was impressed. They didn't even want time to sleep on it; they were ready to buy right then and there."

"Wow. Five million dollars." He couldn't imagine living in a house like that.

"Derek's going to want a slice of it," said Cody, the excitement fading.

"Why?"

"He introduced them to me." He leaned back against the headboard. "He's already called them—"

"—and tried to slime you," finished Nick grimly. "What an—what a jerk."

"Stay away from him. I'm serious, Nick. I know what you're thinking." Cody gave him a look.

"Are you gonna give him a slice?"

Cody paused, looking troubled. "I don't know. If I did, and I told him this was it..."

"That won't work," said Nick. "It'll just make him think he'll always get a part of the action."

"You're probably right." He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. "Legally, he can't really do much. It's not like we have a contract or anything."

"But you're worried about what he'll say."

"Yeah. If he bends enough ears..."

"It'll be okay," said Nick, even though he had no idea if it would or not. "Cody, you're a good guy, and people can sense that."

"I don't know," said Cody. "I don't feel like much of a good guy. The last couple years..."

"What, you've been out kicking orphans? I doubt it."

"Well, no, but I have been hanging out with Derek a lot, and he's not the nicest guy on the block. And I feel like it rubbed off on me a little bit."

"So you had a little too much to drink some nights, and you hit on some girls. We did that plenty, too."

"It's a little more than that." He exhaled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I acted like a jerk. And I wasn't happy with his business practices, but I went along with them."

"Is that why you left his agency?"

Cody nodded. "One day I woke up and...I just didn't want to deal with that any longer. The sick feeling in my gut every time he—we did something that wasn't...well, wasn't illegal, but..." Sadness washed over his face. "Once, there was a commercial buyer who wouldn't take a property because there were too many trees on it. So Rick figured he'd just cut them down so that the next buyer wouldn't have that issue. Only the neighborhood banded together, and got help from their city council, and they said he couldn't cut down the trees..."

"Yeah? And then what?"

"Rick was pissed, because he didn't know how he could sell the property, especially after that. He was just going to unload it, cheap. But Derek...he went over on a holiday weekend, on a Sunday, and had a crew cut everything down early in the morning. They were done before the locals could even get a phone call through to any of the authorities."

"Damn."

"Derek told me later that people showed up, and some of them were even crying. It was a really pretty stand of trees." He shivered. "It ended up a carpet warehouse or something. I don't remember. But I do remember wondering if I really wanted to be in business with people like that."

"And now you're not." Nick flexed the fingers of his right arm.

"Yeah, I guess...I guess you're right."

"But you want to feel guilty about it."

Cody gave him a sharp look. "I _am_ guilty. I should have done something to stop it."

"Cody, you gotta stop beating yourself up over this stuff. Just concentrate on getting the hell away from him, and setting your business up. Don't worry about that jerk. Do some damage control and get out there and sell some houses."

"I just..."

"You're making this complicated and it doesn't have to be." He yawned.

Cody gave him a look. "Derek won't make this easy."

"Well, can't you do something? Head him off at the pass?"

"This isn't a cattle drive."

"Too bad. I could use a good steak."

Cody looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll pick up a couple for next week."

"The big day's coming. Might as well celebrate." _The day I get out of your hair._ He frowned. "What happened to Del's check?"

"I have it."

"I should sign it, get it deposited..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Damn. I need to take a shower."

"Tomorrow."

"Before we go to the appointment."

Cody looked like he was going to argue, but then gave him a nod. Settling back with a sigh, Nick closed his eyes. His hip ached, and he shifted a little until it wasn't as strong. _Wish I could go scare the pants off Derek. Get him to leave Cody alone._ Again he wished that he could go to Murray, get some help, but that was impossible. _Not much I can do. Even less after the surgery._

"You're thinking about something." Cody's voice broke into his thoughts.

He opened his eyes. "Yeah." He looked over to see Cody staring at him, blue eyes narrowed. Nick didn't care to elaborate.

The phone rang, and Cody grabbed it, already halfway off the bed and out of the room. Nick moved the pillows away and lay down on his side.

Cody's voice rose, and he sounded agitated. Frowning, Nick wondered who he was talking to. Derek? Derek's father? An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. _Wish I hadn't hocked my guns._

A few minutes passed, and then a few more, and Nick was just about to grab his cane and go find him when Cody came back into the room, looking frustrated.

"Derek?" asked Nick.

"Yeah," said Cody.

Nick stared for a moment, but then it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything more. _Used to be we couldn't stop talking to each other._ With a pang, he realized just how far away those days were. Cody picked up his magazine again, and Nick let sleep claim him.

* * *

Nick ate breakfast with Cody, both of them nearly silent, and then Nick went back to bed and slept the rest of the morning away. He thought he heard the door creak a couple times—most likely Michele checking up on him—but for the most part he was sound asleep.

Around noon he woke, and limped to the bathroom, where he took a shower of truly decadent length. He used the same unusual shower gel, washing his hair with it as well, and then shaved, having brought the razor and foam into the shower with him. Feeling rested and running a hand over his now-smooth cheek, he toweled off and made his way to the kitchen. Michele had left a note that there was soup in the fridge, and he reheated it in the microwave and ate at the table. There was no pill, though, most likely because of the appointment.

The phone was on the table, and he contemplated it as he finished his soup. Picking it up, he called Del, and asked how things were going. Mimi was fine, and the hangar was busy, and everything sounded just great until Nick asked how much had been paid so far, and then suddenly Del got cagey and made an excuse to hang up on him.

Pulling out a piece of paper, Nick started to put together a list of everything he knew so far. Rent. Utilities. He made a guess at the price for storage for Mimi. He also worked out food and prescription costs, though he was guessing at those, too. Most problematic was the charge for Tim's services. He had no idea what the rate was, so he took a stab at it and added that in, too. If the surgery took place next week, say on Friday, he had another week's worth of bills, and he worked those out as well and added it up.

He scratched his neck. The figure was steep, but doable. The surgery and the rehab wing would take a few more weeks of time, he was sure, but at least the bills from those would be delayed for a little while. He worked out another three weeks' worth of rent and utilities and added that, too. Less doable, but fortunately the check from Del would at least take a small chunk out of it, and maybe Mr. Taylor would be open to negotiation. He could be pretty softhearted, for a landlord.

Back on the couch in the living room, he flipped through channels idly as he thought over the possible routes he could take. _Maybe this surgery will be easier to recover from._ Especially because he knew what was coming, and he already knew how to put on socks without putting stress on his hip. He could skip some of the therapy, which might save a little money.

Noticing the time, Nick got up and made his way to the bedroom, changing out of the bathrobe and into clothes. He heard Cody calling for him.

"Hold on!" he shouted in return. Slipping his arm into the sleeve, he buttoned up his shirt, and then grabbed his cane and walked toward the front of the house.

Cody was in the kitchen, a piece of paper in his hand, frown on his face. "What's this?" he demanded.

Confused, Nick stared at it until he realized that it was the scratch paper he'd been using to figure out how much he owed Cody. "Uh..."

"I told you already that you don't have to worry about this, Nick." Cody looked hurt.

"You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can't do." Cody crumpled up the sheet and threw it away. "I told you already, and I'll tell you again until you get it into your stubborn head. You don't need to pay me back."

"Fine."

"And don't say fine now and then try paying me back anyway. It won't work." Cody gave him a piercing look.

Nick grimaced. _It's not fair, fighting with someone who already knows all of your tricks._

"Look, we should get going. Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Nick accepted his help and made it into the Yukon without too much difficulty. The drive there was quiet, and Cody pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript medical office building and parked. The sign promised several different doctors.

Inside, they took a small and musty-smelling elevator to the fourth floor. Nick leaned on his cane and tried to focus on breathing as the elevator settled.

In the office, he stood at the counter and took the offered pen and clipboard. He could fill medical paperwork out by rote now. _Probably can do it with my eyes closed._ He glanced over to see Cody watching him. After signing multiple forms, he handed it back to the receptionist, who told them to take a seat.

The chairs were more comfortable than most offices. He looked around and noticed that he was the youngest patient by at least two decades. Cody sat down next to him, and for a second he thought he felt a weird territorial vibe coming from him, but then he figured he was imagining things.

The wait grew longer and longer, which was unsurprising. Cody was practically squirming. _Get used to it, pal._ None of the magazines looked promising, and he simply let his mind drift, thinking about how to best fix Mimi's fuel filter issues. The waiting room was over-airconditioned, too cool by at least five degrees.

After an hour passed, Cody looked like he was ready to go through the roof. Nick's hip ached painfully. _Bend, don't break._ Cody got up and asked for a fourth time when Nick would be seen.

Another ten minutes went by, and he could sense that Cody was barely restraining himself from getting up and asking again, and maybe not being quite as civil about it. Fortunately, the door opened and a girl in scrubs called out his name. He got up carefully and limped toward her, Cody dogging his steps. Surprised, he turned and looked at him, and it became clear that Cody was determined to accompany him on the appointment.

 _Well, why not?_ He mentally shrugged, and followed the girl down the hallway, the door hissing shut behind them. "I'm going to put you in room five," she said cheerfully. "But first, we need to get your weight. Do you think you can step up on the scale?"

"Sure," he said.

"Great," she said. They turned a corner. "Take off your shoes first," she added, moving a few of the weights at the top of the scale.

He handed his cane to Cody and stepped up cautiously, keeping his weight on his right leg. She adjusted the weights quickly. "Looks like one forty-six." She marked it down, and Nick caught a flash of surprise on Cody's face. "Thanks, Mr. Ryder. Okay, now you can put your shoes back on and we'll backtrack to room five."

Cody held on to his arm, balancing him while he slipped the shoes back on. His hip was a bundle of pain now, and he hoped that the exam wouldn't take long. They followed her back to the examination room, and he had to lean on Cody a little more than he would have liked.

Exam room five was decorated with hideous flower wallpaper and a few framed botanical rose prints. The exam table was unusual, though; it was fitted with a hydraulic lift. The girl adjusted the table to a low height, and then gave him a gown to wear and told him to change, and that she'd be back in a second.

It was a relief to have Cody there to help. He knew the girl would have, but Cody was strong and steady, and it was a lot less awkward. After he'd changed, Cody helped him get on the table, and he was grateful that it was adjustable. Getting on high exam tables was always a nightmare. He lay down, trying to breathe through the pain, already feeling worn out. Cody's hand was on his arm, comforting, and he closed his eyes and tried to relax. The exam room wasn't much warmer than the waiting room had been, and he shivered.

The girl came back in and Cody hurriedly took a seat. She asked several routine questions, made notes on a chart, took his blood pressure and pulse, and then left, saying that the doctor would be in soon.

Another half hour passed, and the spiking pain in his hip only grew stronger. Cody looked impatient and kept getting up and pacing. "This is ridiculous," he finally said. "It's four fifteen. The appointment was at two—"

"Cody, I've had appointments scheduled for ten in the morning, and I haven't seen the doctor until three," said Nick, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. "This is normal."

Cody raised both hands, looking frustrated. "Normal? It's normal to wait for over two hours?"

"Cody, man, just chill out." His right arm was falling asleep, and he flexed his fingers. "It'll happen when it happens."

There was a sharp rapping at the door and then it opened. "Nick Ryder?" asked a man in a white coat, checking a chart.

"That's me," said Nick. Cody sat back down, looking only slightly mollified.

"I'm Doctor Coen. Tim Lawrence told me about you and sent me your test results. You have some issues with your hip, I hear. Bone fragments, scarring, and a labral tear, correct?"

"Yeah, sure," said Nick.

"Left hip, hmm?" He crossed the room and adjusted the height of the table. "Let's take a look." He was short and balding, with dark brown eyes that reminded him of Murray's, except they were sharp and assessing instead of being warm and friendly. "Can you take a few steps for me?"

Nick got down from the table gingerly and stood for a moment, bracing himself, and then walked toward the opposite wall.

Coen scratched notes into the chart. "And back to the table, please." Nick turned around and walked back, getting on the table again with a grunt of effort. Coen reached underneath and engaged the hydraulic lift, raising the table. He untied the side of Nick's gown and pulled it aside to reveal the scars. "Can you straighten your leg?"

"Sure." Nick gritted his teeth. _Here comes the fun part._ Sure enough, the doctor checked his scope of movement, having him move his leg in different directions. Then there was the requisite prodding and positioning, until the pain built to a level that made him gasp.

"Nearly done," said Coen brusquely. Nick could see Cody out of the corner of his eye, looking anxious. "Hold your leg in this position for a moment..."

It _hurt_. Nick gritted his teeth at the scalding agony in his hip, like a knife being pushed in. Fortunately, it didn't take long, and then he simply lay there, wrung out and trying to draw in slow breaths.

"I believe you'll have good results with the surgery," announced Coen. "Speak with my scheduler and she'll let you know when the next opening is." He turned to leave.

"Wait—that's it?" said Cody, incredulous.

"I was under the impression that Lawrence would be handling your concerns and questions," said Coen, looking irritated.

"Well, yes, but—"

"I have other patients to attend to." He left.

"Charming bedside manner," said Cody. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he glared at the door.

"I've seen his type before," said Nick, struggling to sit up.

"Just stay still," said Cody with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "I'll go finish the paperwork, and then I'll come back for you." He fished out a bottle of pills from his jacket pocket and gave him one.

Nick nodded, swallowing the pill without water and then putting his head back down on the paper-covered pillow. Several minutes went by, and then Cody reentered the room, smiling.

"You gave the doctor a piece of your mind, didn't you?" groaned Nick.

"I might have." There was a triumphant gleam in his eye.

"It won't do any good. He doesn't care about your opinion. I know his type. Mere mortals don't impress him." He sat up with help from Cody, and shrugged off the hospital gown.

"Well, it made _me_ feel better."

"I forgot, that's all that matters." Nick grinned at him, and Cody grinned back, helping him shoulder his way into his shirt. When Nick's shaky fingers couldn't get the buttons through the holes, Cody took over.

His pants were trickier, and he had to lean on Cody for a minute until the dizziness passed. The pain was impossible to breathe through, and he hoped the pill would kick in soon.

They took it slow leaving the office, and Nick braced himself in the elevator, Cody's arm around his waist. In the parking lot, the long rays of the afternoon sunshine illuminated everything with a golden glow. Nick breathed in the warm air with a sigh of relief, glad to get out of the aggressive air conditioning.

Getting in the Yukon was rough. He had the shakes and his hip was really giving him hell, but somehow he managed it. He felt Cody buckling his seat belt, and a warm hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes. "I'm okay," he said, yawning.

"Yeah. You're great." Cody looked relieved and faced forward again, putting the truck in gear.

Nick watched the scenery slide by, feeling tired down to his bones. People were out roller skating, zipping down sidewalks, enjoying the unusually warm fall day, and there were girls in bikinis and kids walking dogs. His hip gave another fierce spike, and he put his head back on the head rest and tried not to whimper. He could feel the first effects of the painkiller, and welcomed it.

Cody pulled into the garage, and helped him out. The uneven steps frustrated him as usual, and he was panting with the effort by the time Cody got him into the bedroom. Again they went through the pulling-off-the-clothes maneuvers, and then finally Nick was in bed, shivering and exhausted, and the last thing he was aware of was Cody's warm hand in his hair, gently stroking.

* * *

Nick woke up in the middle of the night. Cody's breathing was even and peaceful next to him, and the clock read 2:42 am. A sharp ache in his hip made his breath catch, and he was relieved to see that Cody'd left the bottle of pills within reach. He took one, washing it down with the glass of water that was next to it.

Settling back down, he sighed. He was warm and the bed was soft and, other than the hip, he felt good. Kind of like he was home. His brain was confused by the thought, but he fell asleep again before he could figure out why.


	7. Chapter 7

Nick woke early and was halfway through a shower before Cody yanked the shower door open, looking half-asleep and worried out of his skull at the same time.

"Hey, you're letting cold air in," complained Nick.

Cody blinked, and then blinked again. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"To announce I'm taking a shower?" said Nick. "Why?"

"So I could help." Surprisingly, he blushed.

"I can handle a shower."

"Yeah. Okay." Cody closed the door and walked away.

Wrapped in one of the decadent bathrobes, Nick went out to the kitchen to find Cody in a similar bathrobe stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. "Want some?" said Cody without turning around.

"Sure," said Nick.

Cody continued to stir. "Sorry I interrupted your shower."

"No problem." He sat down at the table gingerly; his hip seemed overly sensitive this morning.

In addition to the eggs, there was toast and jelly again, and tea. And a glass of green sludge that Cody drank quickly. He poured orange juice for Nick and added the requisite protein powder.

"What a way to ruin orange juice," said Nick.

"Yeah, well, you need to put on at least twenty pounds, and this is—"

"Twenty?" said Nick. "You said _ten_."

"That was before I picked you up and realized how much weight you've really lost." Cody glared at him. "And after the appointment yesterday..."

 _This is all a moot point, anyway. After the surgery, I'll be back in rehab, and he'll be selling houses, and that'll be it._ "It's not a big deal." He ate a forkful of eggs.

"What?" said Cody, looking shocked. "Nick, you've lost weight. You—"

"After the surgery, I'll put some weight back on. Just...maybe not at the rehab place." The food there had been worse than the hospital. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it? Nick, you look..." He seemed to struggle for words.

"I know what I look like, all right?" growled Nick. "Enough, okay? I get the point." Taking a deep breath, he put down his fork and leaned back.

Cody was quiet, studying his plate of food like it held the mysteries of the universe. Finally he looked up. "I'm sorry. I just...it's hard to..." He suddenly clammed up.

 _Hard to what? Look at me?_ "I know." Nick adjusted his leg, trying not to wince. "So this open house today..."

Cody stared at him for a heartbeat or two, and then took the bait. "It's for Lydia and Clyde Paulsen. They're in a tight spot; their daughter's in Germany at the moment, and she's ill, and they've been flying back and forth. They've been pretty scattered about the whole process, which is understandable, but I think I might have an interested buyer or two."

"Another million dollar house?"

"Two point five, actually. Nice piece of property in Hermosa Beach. The only problem is the neighbors. On one side is another property up for sale, which will always scare buyers because they don't know who the new neighbors will be. On the other side, though, is your typical worst case scenario—the retired police commissioner who's cranky as hell."

"Huh. Never thought that would turn people off that much."

"Oh yeah, absolutely. Prospective buyers are afraid he's going to call the cops for anything and everything. And in this case, they'd be right. Clyde told me a story about how he was painting a fence—his own fence, on his own property—and Gus called the cops on him for vandalism."

Nick chuckled. "Reminds me of Quinlan."

"Yeah, but he's even meaner. I don't know if we'll ever be able to sell it, but if I can just get somebody in there who isn't intimidated..."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. It'll be a good check if it sells. They're getting desperate, though; I spoke to Lydia and she said she'd be happy with two and a quarter. If no one bites this weekend, we'll lower the price, but sometimes that makes it look even less desirable."

"Makes sense." He took another bite of his eggs but couldn't bring himself to drink more of the orange juice.

"I really hope someone does buy. They're stretched to the limit right now, especially because their daughter is so sick, and they just really want to unload their house."

"Medical bills are tough." Once again, he was reminded of just how tough.

Cody stared at him for a moment, his expression impossible to interpret, eyes completely shuttered, and then got up, putting his dish in the sink. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Have fun," said Nick, smearing jelly on his toast. Cody nodded distractedly and left.

The toast wasn't burnt enough for his liking, but it had a satisfying crunch. _So Cody thinks I look bad. Well, a year of being in pain and the bologna diet will do that to anyone._ He finished the last piece of toast and found that he had no appetite for more eggs so he scraped them into the garbage. He drank another few mouthfuls of juice before he couldn't stand the strange texture and poured the rest of it into the sink.

There was a knock at the door, and he wiped his mouth off with a napkin. Another knock, and he limped to the door, and found Tim standing there, hands in the pockets of worn, patched jeans.

"Hey, good morning," said Tim in a mellow tone.

"Yeah, morning. Come on in." Nick gestured with his free hand and then closed the door behind him. "We just had breakfast, but I bet there's another egg or two in the fridge..."

"Thanks, but I already ate." Tim took off his sunglasses and put them on the table next to the door. "Has Cody left already?"

"Nope. Taking a shower." Nick gave him a grin. "Guess you drew the short straw, huh?"

Tim smiled in return. "I wouldn't say that. Friends help each other out."

"Hey, Tim," said Cody, coming into the room, toweling off his hair, another wrapped around his hips. "Sorry, I'm running a little late."

"No worries." Tim glanced at him. "You might want to put on a little more clothing, though. I hear that open houses are fairly conservative events."

"Very funny." Cody looked perfectly at ease, smiling and rubbing at his hair. "I'll be right back." He dashed back to the bedroom.

Nick's hip ached, and he limped toward the living room. He wanted to lie down on the couch, but he felt strange about doing it in front of Tim. He sat down carefully and took a few measured breaths, waiting for the pain to die down.

"Have you taken any medication yet this morning?" asked Tim.

"No." Nick braced himself with his good leg and watched as Tim went and retrieved a pill bottle and a glass of water from the kitchen.

"Here." He shook a pill out into Nick's hand.

"Not you, too," groaned Nick, but he took the pill anyway.

"You should lie down."

Nick wanted to argue, but his hip hurt too much. Tim's hands were on him, not as gentle as Cody's, but efficient and helpful, and there was a pillow under his head and a blanket spread over him before he could even blink. "Thanks," he said quietly, a little embarrassed.

"No problem." He looked at the metal chairs, and then sat down on the floor, cross-legged. "Listen, while you're still awake, I want to talk to you about the procedure. I spoke with Sarah at Doctor Coen's office, and she's put you in for next Friday at ten in the morning."

"Good." Even though he felt a shiver of fright, it was far outweighed by getting the surgery done as soon as possible.

"Friday?" asked Cody, sitting down next to Nick's feet on the couch. He was buttoning his sleeves. "I'm glad they could rearrange the schedule."

"Otherwise you would have waited for a month," said Tim.

"A month? There're other surgeons out there." Nick shifted on the couch. He suppressed a shudder, thinking about how much it would have cost to be out of commission for yet another month.

"I would recommend Doctor Coen over anyone else in the area, even if you had to wait for a month," said Tim seriously. "He's the best. He specializes in this kind of procedure."

"Too bad he doesn't specialize in manners, as well," said Cody dryly.

"He's...ah...pretty committed to his patients." Tim held up a hand to forestall Cody's next comment. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but he really is. He barely had time to see you guys yesterday. You were added at the last minute to an already full schedule. I made a deal with him, which is that I would handle all of the questions and information, and he would just do the surgery."

"Even a little bit of courtesy would have gone a long way," said Cody.

"He's not like that." Tim shrugged. "Does it matter? He's the best." He began to outline the procedures involved, the timetable, what to expect at the hospital, and what to avoid during the week.

This was new for Nick; the first surgery had been done on an emergency basis, and he hadn't even known about it until he woke up and found himself unable to move. And sick, too, which he realized he should mention. "Uh...I threw up. After the anesthesia wore off."

Tim nodded. "I remember reading that in your history. I'll make sure the nurses in recovery know about it."

Cody swore as he checked his watch. "Look, I have to go. I'll be back as soon as the open house is over. There's some food in the fridge—eat whatever you want—" He headed for the bedroom.

"Typical Cody. Always on the go." Tim ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah." Nick yawned.

"Bye," called out Cody, and Nick heard the door to the garage open and close.

Nick yawned again. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm not much company right now."

Tim waved him off, pulling a much-worn copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ out of his back pocket. "It's fine. Go ahead and sleep."

After a short nap, Nick woke to find Tim on the couch, engrossed in his book. Yawning, Nick sat up slowly and then rubbed his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" asked Tim, putting the book aside.

"Fine," said Nick automatically. "Think I'll just hit the bathroom." He got up and leaned on his cane. In the guest bathroom he brushed his teeth again and splashed a little water on his face.

Tim had moved from the living room to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" he asked, leaning over the short wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.

"Little," said Nick.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm not exactly the best cook. And Cody's into a lot of health food stuff that I just don't understand."

"But you're a doctor." Nick sat down at the kitchen table.

"That doesn't mean that I want to eat seaweed." He poked around in the fridge. "Hey, there's a package of fresh pasta. How about that? I think I saw some shrimp..."

"Sure." Nick leaned back in the chair. "So…you always want to be a doctor?"

"No. But my Uncle Davey was a doctor, and he was a terrific guy, and when I was sixteen he took me aside and told me that every other occupation was a load of horseshit, and that if I wasted my life shoveling horseshit, I was going to regret it."

"Sounds like a helluva guy."

"He was. And I liked medicine." He rummaged through the cupboards until he found a large stockpot. "He thought I was crazy to specialize in geriatrics, though..."

"Geriatrics?" said Nick in disbelief.

"Yes. I'm a gerontologist." Tim put the stockpot in the sink and turned on the water. "I'm pretty experienced about treating hip injuries, actually."

"I didn't know."

He pulled out a cutting board and a knife and began cutting up tomatoes. "So...did you always want to be a helicopter pilot?"

"No." Nick shifted in the chair. "I just knew I wanted to fly. My dad split when I was little, and my mom died when I was in high school. She left behind some bills, and there just wasn't any money by the time the funeral was over."

"I'm sorry for your loss," said Tim, and he looked like he truly meant it.

"Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My grandpa Sal was pretty sick at the time, and he'd been in the military, and he kept telling me it was my best chance at learning how to fly. So I joined right after high school. I got some chopper training in the States, and then they sent me over to 'Nam for a tour, and I got more training. On the job training."

"And that's where you met Cody."

"Yeah." He watched as Tim put the pot on the range to boil. "I hear that Cody sold you a house."

"My first house, and my second." Tim found a skillet and put it on the range as well. Going through the fridge again, he frowned. "Hmm. It looks like he's out of garlic, so this is going to be a little bland."

"No problem."

He washed off a tomato and put it next to the sink. "I was in a condo for a while. It was a nice place, but I had some rude neighbors, and I finally had enough after they bought a dog that barked all the time. It was against the rules, but they didn't seem to care." He leaned against the counter. "I started checking the listings, and there was this bungalow that looked great. Cody showed me the property, and we just seemed to connect. The house was a little too dark for my tastes, and he asked me a few questions, and then took me to the perfect place. I put in an offer right on the spot. It was a great starter home."

"Where do you live now?"

"The next subdivision over." He checked the water. "Great house. I met this girl, and the bungalow was too small for the two of us, so Cody found us a bigger place. Only she dumped me pretty soon after we'd moved in together. Fortunately, everything was in my name."

"That's too bad about...your girl."

"Sheila. She had a beautiful vibe, but I should have known it wouldn't last. She was way too into Reaganomics."

Nick couldn't help but laugh. "So are you looking for somebody new?"

"No. I've just been taking it a day at a time." He kept adding a pinch of this and a handful of that to the skillet, and it smelled good. The water in the pot came to a boil, and he threw in the noodles. "How about you?"

"I've had a couple flings since..." He'd almost said Cody. He looked up at Tim.

"Cody told me that you were in a relationship together." He stirred the noodles.

"Yeah." Nick looked down at the table. "The girls I've met since...they weren't serious, and I wasn't serious."

"You were a pilot for that show...what was it..."

"Airwolf 2000."

"Did you get to hang around with Lizbeth Stratton?"

Nick chuckled. "Are you kidding? I was one step above a greasemonkey. She wouldn't even give me the time of day. Now, her stand-in..."

"One of my friends is an extra, and he worked on another show with her—can't remember the name, but it's the one with the Volkswagen convertible. Anyway, she was filming a scene, and my friend tripped and ruined the take. She called him every name in the book."

"Sounds like Liz. She was a pain. Chris hated doing scenes with her."

"Chris? Christopher Alexander?"

"Yeah. I think he'd rather have teeth pulled than work with her again."

"Funny. They had such great chemistry on the show."

"Everybody says that."

Tim searched the cabinets until he found a colander. "I think the show was canceled, though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, about eight months ago."

Tim put the colander into the sink and then poured the contents of the stockpot into it. A cloud of steam rose up around him. "I guess people aren't that into helicopter shows now."

"Doesn't seem like it. I have a few pilot friends who ended up leaving the business because there wasn't any new work coming in for stunt piloting."

"Well, these things are always cyclical. I'm sure there'll be another burst of helicopter shows in years to come."

"I'm not holding my breath." Nick shifted his leg a little.

"Here you go." Tim set a plate down in front of him.

"Thanks." Picking up his fork and spoon, he began to swirl the pasta around his fork. The scent made him nostalgic. He took a bite. "My grandmother used to make something just like this."

"Mine, too."

"But with lots of garlic."

"Same here." Tim smiled. "My grandma always made it on weeknights, when there wasn't a lot of time, and we had to hurry off for something. Always makes me feel like rushing."

Nick took another bite. "It's good. Thanks." They were quiet as they ate.

It was a shame he couldn't have a glass of red wine. He finished eating and leaned back, shifting his leg again.

Tim wiped his mouth off with his napkin and regarded Nick with a serious expression. "I've been friends with Cody for a few years," he said.

 _Oh hell. The best friend talk._ "Yeah," said Nick neutrally.

"I knew Jake, but he was more of an acquaintance." Tim's expression didn't waver. "There were a couple times when I came over and ended up hanging out with him, and he was a little drunk once, and told me about you. About how you left Cody, and how wrecked Cody was afterward."

"It was a bad time."

"I know there's another side to every story," continued Tim, his gaze direct. "But let me just warn you that if you hurt Cody, or if you're just here to siphon off his money, well, the karmic wheel will come back and flatten you. And I might help it along."

Nick blinked. _Not the threat I was expecting._ "Yeah. I get it."

"Good." Tim picked up the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. "Cody's a good guy, a really good guy, and he deserves better than that."

 _And what do I deserve?_ He exhaled. "Believe me, I know."

Tim took a long drink of water and then set the glass on the counter. "How about some TV?"

"Sure." Nick went to stand up, but his hip had other ideas, and he had to grip the edge of the table and wait for the spike of pain to fade.

"Looks like getting back in bed is a better choice."

Nick took a controlled breath. "Yeah."

"Here, I'll help." Tim was shorter than Cody by a couple inches, and had a wiry frame, but he was strong, and seemed to know exactly how to support him. In the bedroom, Nick started to take off the bathrobe and realized he was naked underneath. _Why bother with modesty now?_ He shrugged off the robe. Crawling into bed, he hissed at another spike of pain.

Tim pulled the covers up, and then took his wrist in hand, checking his pulse. "Your pulse rate's a bit high. You haven't done any physical exercise in some time, have you?"

"No. Just...walking." Nick concentrated on breathing in and out, and Tim let go of his wrist and smoothed down the covers.

"Try to sleep." Nick heard footsteps as Tim left.

He fell asleep and dreamed of flying Mimi. At first the air was calm and the sky was blue, but then a fierce wind roared out of nowhere, slamming him against the seat and rattling the windshield. Nick fought with the cyclic, struggling to stay in the air. Blinking awake, he felt his heart hammering in his chest.

Tim was sitting on the bed, book in hand, looking at him intently. "I think it's time for another pill," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he managed. He swallowed down the painkiller and closed his eyes. He could hear Tim's breathing, could hear him turn a page every so often. Eventually it faded and he glided into sleep again.

Dreams of sunshine, of sand, of Cody pressed against him, hot and smelling of the ocean. A cold fog enveloped him, and then he was alone.

He came awake, feeling disoriented. He opened his eyes, blinking to clear the fuzziness.

Cody was next to him on the bed, lying on top of the blankets, snoring.

According to the clock, it was only four o'clock in the afternoon, but Cody was dead to the world. He was dressed in the suit he'd worn that morning, rumpled, the tie hanging open and the first few buttons undone. He looked so peaceful that Nick didn't want to wake him. Instead he gazed at the face he'd once loved so much, the beautiful golden Cody that still haunted his heart.

 _I sound like an idiot._ His eyes grew wet, and he reached out, tentatively touching Cody's hand. His skin was soft, and there was a black pen mark on his thumb. _So warm._. He felt a stab of pain in his heart, missing their connection, their love, and then he exhaled. _That was a long time ago._

Cody's pocket suddenly chirped, and Nick pulled his hand back as Cody startled awake. Sitting up, he patted down his pockets, looking for his phone as it chirped again. "Cody Allen speaking," he answered when he found it. There was a long pause. "Yes, hello, Mr. Grant, good to hear from you. We'll have the paperwork ready for you on Monday." He got up and left the room.

Nick wiped his eyes and shifted a little in the bed. _Bend, don't break..._ His right arm had fallen asleep, so he carefully rolled until he was on his back, flexing his hand and trying to work the feeling back into it.

He could still hear Cody talking to the client. His arm tingled uncomfortably. Staring up at the blank white ceiling, he tried to understand what was happening. _It's called regret._ He sighed and took a deep breath. _Just let it go._

Cody came back in, shedding his jacket and throwing it on the couch in front of his closet. The tie was next. "Tim says you slept a lot."

 _Great. Next I'll be getting an hourly report card._ "Yeah." He glanced back up at the ceiling as Cody stripped off his shirt and pants and pulled on a pair of jeans. "How was the open house?"

"Not great. Two couples, and one guy. The couples were in and out pretty quickly. The guy seemed a little more enthusiastic about the place."

"Think he'll bite?"

Cody paused for a second as he buttoned his jeans. "I don't know. I mean, sometimes I can tell, but this time there just wasn't that vibe." He sat down on the bed. "I have a few other properties he might be interested in. I'll give him a call on Monday, after he's had some time to think about it."

A shirtless Cody was a powerful thing, and Nick found himself staring. He realized Cody'd gone silent. "Well...hope he buys it."

"Me too." Cody stretched and yawned, and Nick watched his muscles ripple and flex, and thought of years past, when he would have tackled him and done wicked things to him with his tongue. A shiver ran up his spine, and he swallowed.

Cody's cell phone rang again, and he went back out to the kitchen to pick it up. Nick sighed in relief. _Crisis averted._

Dinner was in the kitchen, and Nick was glad to get out of bed, even if a hot rush of pain flared through his hip with every step. Cody had made salmon again, and green beans, and potatoes. Very odd potatoes.

"They're purple," said Nick, mystified.

"One of the farmers at the market grows them," said Cody nonchalantly. "Just try it."

He took a bite. It tasted like a potato, maybe a little nuttier, but a potato nonetheless.

"See? They're good. Plus, they're higher in nutritional value than russets, and they're organic, too."

"Uh...great." Nick took another bite. "Thanks." Cody beamed. Nick took a bite of salmon, and wished that he could have a beer.

"I've invited Tim over tomorrow," said Cody, taking a sip of wine.

Nick looked at him warily. "More babysitting?"

"It isn't babysitting," said Cody, looking exasperated. "He's going to hang out with us. You guys seemed to get along today—"

"Cody, I was asleep most of the time."

"You don't like Tim?"

"No, I like him just fine," said Nick. "But I barely know the guy."

"Well, maybe this will fix that." He poured more wine for himself.

 _Why the hell should it matter if we're friends or not?_ "Okay." He ate a few more bites of the salmon.

"We usually get together on Sundays anyway, when I don't have an open house or appointments."

 _That makes more sense. I'll be the third wheel, then._ He put his fork down and picked up his tea. The fragrant scent interested him.

"White tea with jasmine," said Cody.

Nick took an experimental sip. "It's good," he said, surprised.

"Of course. The tea house that makes it has been around for over a century." Cody piled more green beans on his plate.

"Wow." Nick took another sip. "I dated a girl once who was really into tea. She had a lot of weird stuff. She really liked this one tea. It was red; can't remember what it was called."

"Rooibos."

"Yeah, that's it." He put the cup down and shifted a little in the chair. "She had a whole method to making tea. Her mom was British, and she kept telling me that no one here could make a decent cup of tea."

Cody gave him a look that clearly said she hadn't tasted his tea, and Nick almost laughed. "How long did you date her?"

"Couple months. She was Liz's stand-in on the show, and we hit it off pretty well at first."

"What happened?"

"Chris happened."

"Ah." Cody took a sip of his tea. "I'd read that he was a swinger."

Nick blinked. _Since when does Cody read about movie stars? Except Cher._ "Yeah, you could say that. He was kind of a jerk. Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Still, it must have been great, working on a show like that. A new girl coming in every week. Plenty of opportunities."

"I was pretty busy." Nick took another bite of potato. "There was a lot of flying, and the days were pretty long. Hell, we even did night work occasionally."

"What did you do on hiatus?"

"Slept. At least for the first week." Nick grinned.

"I bet."

"Yeah. Sometimes I'd go out and spend some money. Maybe go drinking. Hit the clubs. Usually, though, I picked up a few jobs here and there." He took a sip of tea. "That's how I ended up on the side of a mountain." Cody winced and looked down, but not before Nick caught the flash of fright in his eyes. "The show came back, but got canceled a couple months later. They'd been retooling it during the hiatus, trying to figure out a way to bring the ratings back up, but it didn't work."

"And Lizbeth Stratton left."

"Well, yeah. She was a big draw, and I heard that her leaving lost more than a few rating points."

"She was hot."

"Definitely. But she was an ice-cold bitch, too."

Cody's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"I introduced myself to her, my first day there, and she looked at me like I'd just crawled out of a bucket of ooze. And that was probably the friendliest moment I saw. The crew hated her. Chris used to have a pool with them about which extra she'd demand get fired by the end of the week."

"Wow."

"I won a couple times."

Cody's lips quirked into a smile. "She just got engaged, actually."

"No kidding," said Nick. "Well, I won't be invited to the wedding, that's for sure. I feel sorry for the poor sucker who's hooking up with her."

"Speaking of hooking up, Tammi told me you dated a couple of her friends." Cody's tone was light and casual, but his entire body was still, and Nick wondered why.

"Yeah, I did. Linda, well, I met her just a month after I started flying again. She was smart, pretty, blond, everything you could hope for, but it only lasted four dates. She told Tammi that I was more than she could handle."

"Oh."

"Then Tammi set me up on a blind date with Kathy. I think Kathy was really taken aback at first. I don't think Tammi told her about the accident or anything. But she agreed to a second date, and then a third." He took another sip of tea. Cody watched him intently. "It only lasted a month. She dumped me over the phone, and didn't really say why. Maybe it was the money. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was having to walk slow. I don't know."

"It was her loss." Cody shrugged.

Nick stared at him for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess," he said finally.

"How about dessert? There's cake."

"Uh...sure." He rubbed the back of his neck. Cody got up and took their plates to the sink, coming back with two pieces of cake.

Yellow cake with chocolate frosting, which he'd always liked. Nick felt the world tilt a little farther away from him, but then he righted it. _Cody's just that kind of guy._

"This is great," he said. "Thanks."

A smile lit Cody's face, and they sat in companionable silence for a long moment. Nick ate a few bites and then leaned back in his seat. It didn't matter that Cody'd bought his favorite kind of cake, or even that he was pumping him for information; his eyes were still remote.

Later, they sat and watched a movie, Nick lying down, his pillow against Cody's thigh. Cody's warm hand gently rubbed his neck, and he was asleep in minutes.


	8. Chapter 8

Sunday morning dawned cool, the backyard wreathed in a light, unsubstantial fog which hovered mostly over the pool. Nick knew this because he was sitting in the loveseat on the patio, watching the mist dance across the surface of the water.

The cool air helped clear his head after a night full of bad dreams and strange feelings. Twice he'd woken up to find himself closer to Cody in the bed, as if he'd pulled himself there while asleep. Once he'd woken up thinking his chopper had crashed.

Once he'd woken up thinking he was on the _Riptide_.

He let his head fall back, and looked up into the lightening sky. Birds looped and called to each other.

 _Get him out of your head. Get us out of your head. There is no us._ He blinked slowly.

He felt uneasy about being in Cody's debt. He'd been sustained by the knowledge that he'd pay him back for it, but even so, how could he pay him back for all the time he'd spent? Time that he should be putting into his own newly-fledged business. He felt a fresh wave of guilt.

Then again, Cody'd freely offered everything.

 _Everything except what's going on inside._ The wall had come down a little, but Cody was still remote, still distant, and Nick couldn't imagine ever getting back in.

Nick knew he always fell hard. Tanya Fredrickson in high school. Peggy. Bobby, in 'Nam. And, hardest of them all, Cody. Once he fell, his heart would never be the same again. He still remembered the scent of Tanya's hair. Peggy's touch.

Cody, golden and gorgeous in the sunset, sharing a beer on the fantail. Cody, holding him down in a foxhole as he sobbed and screamed when Bobby got killed. Cody, grinning at him as they trounced another volleyball team in the hot sand on the beach.

Cody, hands gentle as he rubbed his neck, Nick falling asleep under his touch.

 _Damn._ He closed his eyes. _On Friday this will all be over. Back to the hospital. Back to the rehab wing. Back to the apartment._ He winced, thinking of how empty it would seem. _He'll drop me off for surgery and then he'll leave. Out of my life forever. Again._

 _Bend, don't break._ Yes, that was it, that was the magic formula that had gotten him through those awful nights in the hospital, when he woke up from terrifying dreams of the crash only to find the reality much, much worse. It had gotten him through physical therapy so painful he thought he might shatter. Gotten him through those days in the pawn shop, selling his medals, seeing himself reduced to almost nothing. It would get him through this.

 _This is just an echo of how I used to feel about him. It's not real._ He shivered. _Just a ghost._

Opening his eyes, the day looked brighter. _It'll all work out in the end._ Another of his father's sayings. It rarely did, of course, but Nick firmly put it out of his head and instead let his eyes wander over the wispy contrails in the sky.

The sliding door opened, and Cody came out, looking groggy. "Nick? What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Nothing." Nick grabbed his cane and got up, and Cody took his arm and helped him back in. Nick could feel his warmth even through the thick material of the bathrobe.

"It's way too early to be up," grumbled Cody.

"So go back to bed."

Cody blinked, looking confused, but then he yawned and crawled under the covers. He was snoring within seconds.

Out in the living room, Nick settled down on the couch with a Tony Hillerman book. The story was a welcome break, and soon enough he was engrossed, barely even noticing when Cody went into the kitchen and the smell of coffee filled the air.

Breakfast was pancakes, and more orange juice with protein powder. Cody cut up a banana and some strawberries as well, and yet again made his green gloop and drank it.

They sat on the couch together, Cody scanning through listings and making notes, and Nick reading the Hillerman book. Eventually, though, Nick got up and took a long, hot shower, and got dressed and went back out into the living room. Tim was there, sitting on the couch with Cody and laughing.

"Hey," said Nick, sitting down carefully next to Tim.

"Hi, Nick," said Tim. "How are you feeling?"

"Great. Gonna wrestle some alligators later, I think." He winced at the pain in his hip.

"Sounds dangerous. How about a game of Scrabble, instead?"

Behind him, Cody winced. "Uh..." said Nick.

"How about lunch, first?" asked Cody smoothly.

"I'll help," said Tim, getting up. "First, though—when did you last have a pill?" Nick hesitated, trying to remember. Cody came back into the living room with one before he could even answer, and he took it.

The couch was its usual uncomfortable self, and Nick finally gave up and lay down on his side, listening to Tim and Cody banter as they cooked. Nick's hip ached, and the pain medication slowly began to kick in, dulling the painful throb to something more tolerable. By the time Cody came in to get him, he was feeling a little better.

The kitchen table was small. The three of them just barely fit. There was fruit, and grilled chicken, and a side of purple potatoes cut in wedges with coarse salt, and summer squash. This time, the tea had a distinct citrus flavor.

The conversation was light and pleasant. Cody was clearly doing his best to keep everything smooth and easy. Not that he needed to worry; Tim was pretty laidback and good-natured. He told a couple of amusing stories about his patients, like one old guy who always thought Tim was the meter man.

After they'd cleaned up, Cody helped Nick up out of the chair and out to the couch. Nick went to sit down, but Cody insisted he lie down instead, and he gave in. Tim pushed the coffee table up against the couch and Cody retrieved the Scrabble game from another room.

The board made him think of happier days on the _Riptide_ , when the three of them would play a few rounds in between cases. He tried not to think of Murray. Instead, he focused on setting up his tiles.

Tim sat down on the floor, and Cody looked surprised. "We could pull over the chairs..."

"Those are the most uncomfortable chairs in the known universe," declared Tim. "Your couch isn't much better."

"You don't like my chairs?" Cody looked bewildered. "But they're from a really good designer. The couch, too."

Tim shrugged. "Just saying what I think."

"Oh." Cody looked at the chairs, and then at the coffee table, and finally sat down on the floor.

Nick tried to make sense of the tiles he'd been dealt, moving them around with his left hand. Looking at them sideways was a little disorienting. He could almost make the word "train," but he had no letter R.

If they'd been playing with Murray, he'd try to use "nati," and just make up a crazy definition. That technique hadn't gone over well at first, but he'd convinced them to start voting on whether or not to count the made-up words, and it had led to some pretty fun games. With a pang, he realized how much he missed those times.

Tim started with "yurt," which Nick had never heard of, but Cody made no argument, so he said nothing. His own choices were too limited, so he drew a tile, which didn't help. Cody also drew a tile.

They went around a few times, and Nick finally was able to make the word "night." Cody added a word, and then another round passed, and another. Tim put down "trawl." Nick drew a tile, and couldn't make anything, so it went to Cody.

Cody put down "gnoast."

Nick stared at him. So did Tim.

"It's what gnu eat for breakfast." said Cody, his tone a little defensive.

"Did you just _make up_ a word?" said Tim incredulously. "You? Cody Allen?"

Nick felt a rush of warmth, and smiled. "I vote to accept it."

Tim's eyebrows rose, but then he held up his hands in defeat. "Whatever floats your boat."

"So you accept it, too?" said Cody.

"Sure."

The game was on. Tim proved to be an agile player, and came up with several excellent non-words, only two of which were rejected. Nick managed "jaguarnt," which was anything that wasn't a jaguar, and "lobstar," a crustacean with ambition.

It came down to Cody and Tim, and Tim laid down "quasagna," which he claimed meant "not quite lasagna," and he was declared winner.

Cody began shuffling the tiles, only pouting a little, and mostly for comic effect. Nick yawned and rubbed his eyes, thinking about how long it'd been since he'd played Scrabble. Sometimes he played cards with Tammi and Eric and a few of their friends, and that was usually a good time, though he couldn't play for long now.

He yawned again, his head sinking into the pillow. Cody and Tim were talking quietly about a concert, and then everything slid away.

Opening his eyes, he realized that he must have fallen asleep. The white curtains had been drawn. The room wasn't very dark; the afternoon sun was strong.

He could just make out Tim and Cody's voices in the kitchen. He shifted a little, and then he heard one of them say Derek's name, and his ears pricked.

"...and that's awful." He could barely make out Tim's words.

"That's Derek, though. That's how he operates." Cody sounded resigned.

"Listen, I know it's none of my business, but this is a bad cycle to be locked into."

Cody's reply was unintelligible.

"Do you really still consider him to be your friend?"

"No," said Cody emphatically. "Not after what he did to Nick. When I figured out what happened, I wanted to _strangle_ him with my bare hands." He could hear Cody exhale.

"You don't need that on your karma." A chair scraped on the tile. "This guy, he's not going to bring anything positive into your life..." Tim's voice grew softer, and Nick couldn't hear Cody's reply.

 _So Tim doesn't like Derek. That seems about right._ Tim didn't seem like the type who'd want to go out and party every weekend. _Maybe this is why they get together on Sunday afternoons. Tim doesn't want to hang around with Derek._

He felt sleepy again, and succumbed, letting it lull him into a dream.

At first everything was white and peaceful and glowing, and he felt safe and protected. Then he heard gunfire, and a wave of heat enveloped him. He was in the jungle again, on foot, alone. Everything green and suffocating. There was a blast as a mine exploded nearby, the familiar sound of an AK-47, the far off whine of a plane, and he dropped to his knees, heart banging against his ribs—

A soft, reassuring touch to his ankle. He woke up with a start, blinking, feeling panicked. The hand was stroking his calf, soothing, and he realized it was Cody. Letting out a breath, he looked up at Cody. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," said Cody. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, still trying to get himself under control. "Sure. Yeah." Cody's hand didn't stop, just kept moving reassuringly, and there was a tenderness to the motion that was completely undercut by the blank look in Cody's eyes. Nick felt the sadness rise in his heart, and then he exhaled again and just let it go. "I'm fine."

"Tammi and Eric called," said Cody, hand still on his leg. "They'd like to come over for dinner."

"Sounds great," said Nick, trying to summon up a smile.

"I'll call them, then." He didn't get up, though, just sat there, his eyes searching Nick's face.

"Tim still here?"

"He's out shopping for groceries. He'll be back." Cody sat for a long moment, staring at him, and then got up and located the phone, slipping away to another room. Nick could only faintly hear his voice.

Getting up, he pulled off the blanket and stretched hesitantly. His hip gave him a jolt, and he took it slower, putting one foot on the floor and then the other. There was a bit of a headache pressing behind his eyes, and he rubbed his temples with his fingertips, trying to dispel the feeling. Cody came back in and started cleaning off the table, packing the game tiles and the board back into the Scrabble box. It was a newer set than the one they'd used to play with, and Nick wondered what had happened to the original. Cody disappeared down the hallway, box tucked under one arm.

Cody reemerged, having changed into a slightly nicer outfit, and started rummaging in the kitchen, dishes clinking together, the sound of the dishwasher being opened. Nick stretched his arms, especially his right one, which was stiff. He rotated his shoulder carefully, wincing at the ache. Getting up, he made his way into the kitchen. "Can I help?" Cody gave him a bewildered look. "I could cut up some onions or something."

"I guess," said Cody slowly. He opened the fridge and pulled out the crisper drawer hesitantly. "Sit down, and you can do it at the table."

"Sure." Nick eased himself into the chair, and Cody brought him a knife and cutting board and small, purplish onions. Shallots. He chopped them fine, and then Cody brought him a head of green leaf lettuce, water droplets still clinging to the leaves, and then tomatoes and carrots and radishes. Nick cut it all up, trying not to watch the beautiful lines of Cody's back, his gorgeous ass, the strong, tanned hands that pulled plates out of cabinets and gathered silverware.

There was a knock at the front door, and Cody dashed to get it. Tim came in, his hands weighed down with bags, and together they began to unpack. Nick leaned back and watched, and eventually Cody handed him some lemons to slice, which made him think that round three—or was it four?—of lemon slices and salmon was in store.

Tim took a stack of plates and a pile of silverware to the dining room. That was one thing about walking with a cane; one hand was always full, which made it hard to carry things. He rubbed the back of his neck absently. Tim came back and took wine glasses and then made another trip with water glasses and napkins, and he could hear him setting the table.

"Look, I can—" started Nick.

The doorbell rang, and Cody answered the door. Tammi and Eric were there, smiling, kissing cheeks. Nick got up slowly, and by the time he was to his feet Tammi was pulling him into a hug. She had a plant in her right hand. _No wine? Isn't that what she usually brings?_ "You're looking handsome," she said playfully when they'd disengaged.

"Me? Nah. But you—you look better than ever."

Tammi blushed lightly and gave him a smile. "Are you flirting with my girl?" demanded Eric, also smiling.

"I would never do that," said Nick seriously. "I've seen your serve."

Tammi giggled at that, and then turned to Cody. "I thought you might need something green. Here, Cody." She handed him the plant.

"Hey, thanks." Cody had that bewildered look on his face, but it was good-natured, and he examined the plant. "It's great."

"You need to put it in the sun, but not direct light," she said.

"The food's still got a few minutes to go," said Cody. "How about a tour?"

"Oh, I'd love that!" Tammi looked thrilled.

Nick didn't accompany them, but he could hear Tammi marveling over everything. _Wait till she sees the master bathroom._

Tim came out and sat down next to him at the kitchen table. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he said automatically.

Tim raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. Nick could hear Cody saying something about square footage.

"You know Tammi and Eric, right?" said Nick.

"I know Eric, mostly. I played in a volleyball league for a little while, and he was on it, too. I've only met Tammi once or twice."

"She's a sweet girl." Nick could hear Tammi exclaiming something in a tone of wonder. _Yep, she's seen the master bathroom._ He shifted slightly in the chair.

"So...how's the hip?"

"Fine."

"Pain-free?"

Nick looked at him. "What?"

"Well, you say you're fine, but you're wincing and you seem like you're in pain. So I wanted to clarify."

"Okay, I'm in pain. Happy?"

"No, of course not." Tim sighed. "Nick, it's not a failing to feel pain. It isn't a sign of weakness—it's a sign that something's wrong."

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm dealing with it the best way I can." He was aware of his defensive tone."

"I know," said Tim. "And you've managed for a very long time on your own. But just managing is not enough. You need to heal."

"I've said yes to the surgery, what more do you want?"

"I'm not attacking you." Tim gave him a look. "I'm just telling you to listen to your body, and don't push yourself so hard. If you want the surgery to be successful, the best thing you can do right now is rest."

"Okay. I get it."

Tim gave him a skeptical look.

"No, really, I do." Nick shifted a little in the chair. He could hear Tammi's voice, soft now, and then a long silence. He let out a breath. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," said Tim with a smile. "I have to deal with this a lot, believe me."

"Stubborn patients?"

Tim nodded. Nick could hear Cody saying something in a strange tone, as if he was upset, and he turned to look at the entrance to the bedroom. Tammi said something in a soothing tone, and then there was another long stretch of silence and they all came out, Tammi with an odd look on her face. Cody's shutters were up; his eyes were completely closed off.

"What do you think of the house?" asked Tim.

Tammi brightened. "It's wonderful. The master bathroom is amazing. The shower is as big as my first apartment."

Everyone chuckled, even Cody, but it seemed forced for him.

"There's a lot of white," said Eric.

"Well, yes," said Tammi quickly. "But they could—I mean, he could fix it so easily with a little artwork. There's a great spot above the fireplace for a nice painting."

"I'll look into that," said Cody. A timer went off in the kitchen. "Excuse me, I have to turn the potatoes..." He went to the stove and grabbed a potholder.

"What do you think, Nick?" asked Tammi.

"About the potatoes?"

"No, the house," she said, smiling.

"It's great," he said automatically.

"Hey, Nick, I've been having an issue with my brakes," said Eric. "They're grinding, even though there's barely ten thousand miles on them. I took it into Somerset, and they're trying to tell me nothing's wrong with them."

"Somerset? That's the place that ripped off Del. Take it to Sal's. He'll take care of you."

Eric looked uncertain. "I've heard bad things about him."

"Sal's done good work for me before."

"But you're a _paison_ ," said Eric. "Me, he'll charge triple."

"Tell him I sent you, and maybe he'll give you a break."

"Or he'll charge me quadruple," said Eric, grinning.

"Hey, dinner's almost ready," said Tim. "Why don't you all sit down in the dining room?"

"I'll help bring things in," said Tammi immediately.

"The only reason Somerset still has customers is their location," grumbled Eric as he sat down at the dining room table. Nick sat across from him. "If they weren't right off the freeway, they'd be out of business."

"Yeah, they probably do a lot of truck work." Nick stretched out his leg carefully, trying not to wince.

"His old man was a good guy." Eric put an elbow on the table and leaned forward. "His son, though, he's a crook."

"Denny retired?"

"Yeah. I thought that maybe he was still around the shop, and he'd look at my brakes—he was friends with my old man—but turns out he spends his time fishing now."

"Sounds like a great retirement plan." Nick brought the chair closer to the table and took a long, controlled breath as pain flared in his hip.

"Me, I'd rather get on the course more often."

"How's your game?"

"No idea. I haven't played yet this year. Too much going on right now with volleyball, and Gwen's divorce."

Gwen was Eric's much-adored little sister. "How's she doing?"

"The creep keeps harassing her. Phone calls and letters. And now he keeps driving past her place. She's pretty upset."

"Damn. That's rough."

"Oh, are you talking about Gwennie?" Tammi came in and set down a bowl full of salad. "It's awful. I keep hoping that he'll get the hint and stop it."

"Gwen won't let me beat the hell out of him," said Eric, looking genuinely frustrated.

"She's right. Why go to jail for that jerk?" said Nick. Tammi disappeared through the doorway.

"Still, I hope this gets taken care of, and soon." Eric rubbed his chin and then dropped his hand. "So how's it going? Tammi said you're going in for surgery."

Nick suppressed a shiver. "Yeah, Friday." Tammi came in with a basket of bread.

"Hope it helps. You've been looking worse for wear lately."

Tammi shot him a warning glare and then turned to Nick. "I'm sure it'll help. Doctor Coen sounds like a very good doctor."

Nick realized that he didn't have any expectations for the surgery. _Don't count your chickens before they're hatched._ "Yeah."

Cody says to go ahead and dig in," said Tim, bringing in a few bottles of salad dressings. They were all low-fat vinaigrettes, and Nick chose one at random. The salad was mixed greens with tomato and carrots, and he waited until Tammi was done serving herself and Eric before he grabbed the bowl.

"I was just reminding Eric about that pasta dish you used to make when we lived at the pier," said Tammi.

"Which one?" asked Nick.

"It was something Italian, I think. Puttanesca, maybe?"

"Capers and olives and lots of garlic, right?"

"That's the one. Even Mama Jo loved it, though she'd never admit it." She ate a forkful of salad. "I ordered it at a restaurant once, but it wasn't the same."

"I usually put in artichoke hearts." The vinaigrette was raspberry-flavored, and it turned out there were dried cherries in the salad as well, which made it a bit sweet for Nick's taste.

"Artichoke hearts, huh?" asked Eric. "Sounds good. I should try making it sometime."

"I'll write down the recipe." He could only get through half of the salad.

Cody came in with a bowl in each hand, followed by Tim, who was carrying a glass pan full of salmon and lemon slices. "Thin sliced seasoned potatoes," said Cody, putting down one bowl, "and Portobello mushrooms in wine sauce." He put down the other and rushed back out as Tim placed the tray in the center of the table.

"It looks wonderful," said Tammi.

"And grilled summer squash with blue cheese and herbs," added Cody, coming back in with a large black platter.

"Oh, I love summer squash." Tammi helped herself to a few slices and then Cody brought the tray over to Eric, who also snagged a few. Coming around the back of the table, he stood next to Nick giving him a look. Nick sighed and took a slice.

"Wow," said Tammi. "This is delicious. The cheese is really amazing."

"Grasch's has a great cheese department." Cody put the tray down and sat down next to Tim at the head of the table. "Anyone care for some wine? This is a really nice white, not too dry. It should go well with the fish."

"I'd love some, and Eric would, too," said Tammi. Cody poured for both of them, and then for Tim and himself.

"To Cody, our excellent host," said Tim, raising his glass. Nick raised his water glass and toasted with them.

"Eric was telling me that you were thinking about adding a covered patio," said Tammi, looking at Tim.

I've been pricing it out," said Tim. "I doubt I'll get around to it until next spring."

"One of the girls I used to crew with on the _Contessa_ married a contractor who specializes in covered patios and decks. Things like that." She took a sip of wine. "I'll get you his number, if you like."

"Sure, that would be great." Tim spooned mushrooms onto his plate. "Sheila was the one who suggested it, and I thought about it and realized that it'd be a great thing to have. And Cody assures me that it'll help add value to my house."

"It's true," said Cody. "They're a good investment."

"It'll be a tough fit, though," said Tim. "The pool is pretty close to the house, and I'll have to relocate some of the plants. But the sun is intense in the late afternoon and I think I'll be able to use the backyard more often."

"Have you talked to Sheila at all?" asked Eric.

"No." Tim took a sip of wine. "I hear that she's engaged to the accountant, though."

"Damn." Eric shook his head.

"Hey, if he makes her happy, then who am I to interfere with that?" said Tim. "That's her path, and she's got to follow it."

Cody frowned as he poured vinaigrette on his salad. Nick watched as he took a bite. Something was odd about Cody's body language, as if he wasn't comfortable that Tammi was next to him. _I wonder what they talked about in the other room._

The salmon was good. The potatoes were crispy and garlicky, and Nick ate them like they were fries.

"Do you have anything new planned for your house?" asked Tammi, turning toward Cody.

"Cody improves everyone's house but his own," teased Tim.

Cody flushed a little. "I've been thinking about changing the color scheme, actually. Maybe doing a little painting. I mean, I've only been here three years..."

"It's probably time, Cody," said Tammi. "I don't want to sound...well, I mean, I don't want to—"

"It looks like the eighties imploded in here," said Eric.

"Well..." Cody looked like he wanted to argue, but then gave them a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, Jake helped me pick out..." He trailed off.

"It's time," said Tammi quietly. Then she brightened. "You're so busy, you should hire an interior designer. My cousin freelances a little, and she's great."

"She's too trendy," said Eric firmly. "Cody just needs a little paint and some carpeting."

"She knows the latest styles." Tammi took a sip of wine. "She's great. She can take what the client likes, and make it look up-to-date and fresh. She won't make it look like a bordello, like what that designer did to your friend...what's his name..."

"Phil."

"Yes, him. There's more to style than paint and carpeting."

"Picking out a trendy look is a waste of time. You just throw some paint on the walls, and put down some new carpeting. Maybe some new furniture." Eric poured another glass of wine for himself.

Tammi looked exasperated. "I'm not saying that he should go for the trendiest look in the book. I'm just saying that it could look a little fresher."

"He should stay away from trends," argued Eric.

"Sometimes you can give a trend an...you know, I can't even believe I'm discussing this with you." She gave him an amused look. "You only know what you don't like."

"Is that bad?" He refilled her glass.

"I guess not." She took a sip.

"It seems like things always come back in style," said Tim. "It's a circle. I always wonder what'll be next."

"Hopefully not bellbottoms," said Cody. "I've had enough of those."

"Oh, they'll come back eventually," said Tammi. "Only they'll be a little different. Just different enough that you'll have to buy new versions and you won't be able to wear the old ones."

"Interesting." Tim looked thoughtful. "That's what keeps the fashion world profitable, then. Out with the old, in with the new old."

"That's one way of doing it." Eric took another sip of wine. "Wow, Cody, this is great. Where did you get this?"

"Chateau Enchanté."

"Huh. Don't think I've heard of it." Eric picked up the bottle and examined the label.

"I get it from a fr—someone I know. His father owns the vineyard." Cody's tone was guarded. _Must be talking about Derek._

"Maybe you could pick up a bottle or two for me." Eric refilled his glass.

Cody couldn't look more uncomfortable if he tried. "I can't. Sorry." A small wave of relief went through Nick at that. _That's right. Stay away from Derek._

Eric stared at him, clearly confused. "Oh. Okay."

Tammi shot him a look telling him to drop it, and then smiled at Cody. "The salmon is excellent. And the potatoes are terrific. I'm so glad you invited us over."

"I'm glad you could come." Cody still looked uneasy, but he tried to smile. "It's been a while since I had a dinner party."

They were quiet for a few minutes, everyone concentrating on eating, but Tammi broke the silence. "When is your surgery on Friday?" she asked, looking at Nick.

"Ten," said Cody. "We need to get there a little earlier than that."

"I don't work on Fridays," said Tammi. "Would you like some company?"

Cody spoke before Nick could even open his mouth. "I think we can handle—"

"I think I'd like that," interrupted Nick. He felt a surge of appreciation for her. Tammi was a true friend, and had always been. "Maybe later in the day?"

"Sure," she said, looking relieved. "I can do that."

"Sorry, bud, you won't see me," said Eric apologetically.

"Yeah, I understand," said Nick. Cody looked at him quizzically. Eric had lost his mother at a young age to cancer, and couldn't even bear to visit a hospital. "Thanks anyway."

"How long will you be in the hospital?" asked Tammi.

"A couple days, I think." Nick took a bite of salmon. "Then the rehab place for a few weeks."

"The same place you were before?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"It's too bad Doctor Harris isn't around this time."

"What?" said Cody, looking at her sharply.

"He was a really big help," she said to Cody. "He consulted with the doctors and explained things to Nick. And us."

"Why won't he be around this time?" asked Cody.

"He passed away," she said, looking surprised. "Cody, I thought you knew."

"He had cancer," said Nick quietly.

"Oh." The blank look in Cody's eyes was back, full force, and he turned a little pale.

"He was someone you all knew?" asked Tim.

"He was a medic in Korea and then again in 'Nam." Nick shifted in his chair. "Good guy. Cody and I met him on our second tour. He moved to King Harbor a few years after we got back, and we had some good times."

"I remember that he threw Cody overboard once," said Tammi. "I can't remember why, though."

"Cody called him a pansy for not liking hot sauce," said Nick. "We were grilling, and Doc just gave Cody a look, and then grabbed him and tossed him over the rail."

"Really? He was like, five-six, if that." Eric looked amused.

"It was something to see," said Nick. "Cody had his revenge, though. Doc tried to help him back into the boat, and Cody pulled him right in." Cody was still, his expression the same.

"Speaking of falling in over your head…do you remember that time Baxter came onto the _Contessa_ at midnight? And somehow we all ended up at the beach for a huge luau? I still have no idea how he wrangled that." Tammi turned to Eric, smiling. "And do you remember how we snuck away?"

"Babe, I couldn't forget that." Eric gave her a heated look. "One of the best nights of my life." She blushed.

"Looks like we're out of wine," said Tim. Cody nodded and left, reappearing after a few minutes with another bottle and looking a little more relaxed.

"I'll have some more," said Eric, holding out his glass.

"To Doc Harris," said Cody, after he'd poured a round of refills.

"Hear, hear," said Nick, toasting with his water glass.

They drifted into small talk, catching up on the pier gossip, which Tammi still heard from one of the girls who used to crew the _Contessa_ and who'd become skipper after Mama Jo retired. Straightaway had gotten married for a fifth time, and Musashi had closed down his sushi place. Charlie had started franchising his hot pretzel shops. The Half-Moon House had turned into a travel agency.

 _Out with the old, in with the new._ Nick finished his salmon and leaned back. His hip throbbed dully, and he took a slow breath, trying to let the pain wash over him. Eric was on his fourth glass of wine, his face a little flushed as he listened to Tammi, who was explaining her idea to start a yoga studio.

"...and most people don't have the space in their homes," she said. "Much less an instructor. I think it could be a really great thing. I've been looking for a space."

"I don't do a lot of commercial work," said Cody, "but I know a couple guys who do. Give me the specs of what you're looking for and I'll try to help."

"That would be great." She refolded the napkin in her lap. "I've been thinking that it...well, it's a risk, but I'm just not that happy at the bank. Even going part time didn't seem to help. And I want to try something new."

"Are you going to have a partner?" asked Nick.

"I might. I'm trying to get Gwen involved. I think it would be good for her, and get her out of the house. But even if she doesn't, my sister Jane said she'd be willing to teach some of the classes, and she's been doing yoga for years." Tammi looked excited. "I've already picked out which kinds of mats to use, and I have the timing all worked out. There's a woman in King Harbor who was teaching for a while, but she wants to retire, and I'm going to buy her mailing list from her."

"Sounds like you've got it together." Nick gave her a smile.

"I'm trying." She took a sip of wine. "I watched Mama Jo for years, you know, how she handled the charters, and I used to help her with the books. I'm used to long hours and I really like the idea of helping people become healthier."

"That's great," said Cody. "I hope it all works out for you."

Nick blinked. Was that a trace of bitterness in Cody's tone? No one else seemed to have caught it, but he knew he hadn't imagined it. _No doubt left over from the spectacular crash and burn of the Riptide Detective Agency._ He shifted in the chair again, and pain shot through his hip.

"Anyone ready for dessert?" asked Cody.

"You even made dessert, too?" asked Tammi.

"I thought about it, but Grasch's pastry counter was too convincing." Cody grinned and got up, heading back toward the kitchen.

"King Harbor needs a yoga studio," said Tim. "I think that's a great idea."

"I hope so." Tammi looked at Eric. "He thinks so, too, but I just get nervous thinking about it."

"You'll be great, baby." Eric stroked her arm and looked at her with love.

"Thanks." Her smile lit the room.

Cody came in with a clear glass platter filled with desserts. It looked like he'd bought several pastry items and cut them into pieces. Tammi immediately went for a mini éclair, and Tim helped himself to half of a chocolate-covered strawberry and a piece of cannoli. Nick grabbed a piece of strawberry shortcake.

"This is delicious," said Tammi. "Where is Grasch's? I don't think I've ever heard of it before."

"It's a little north of that new strip mall. Near the Alpha—I mean, near Vons." Cody bit into a piece of fruit tart, wiping his moustache with his napkin.

The strawberries were very ripe, and the cream was decadent. Nick savored every bite. He hadn't had fresh strawberries in ages, and it reminded him of buying them on the side of the road and not being able to resist eating a few before he even got back to the boat. And later, sharing them with Cody, sometimes with very heated results.

 _Ancient history, now._

The pain in his hip was more insistent, and he leaned back carefully, wiping his mouth on his napkin. Shifting a little to one side, he gritted his teeth, waiting for the flare to fade. Tim and Cody exchanged a look.

"Well, we'd love to stay, really, but we can't," said Tammi. Nick blinked. It seemed strangely early for them to leave; Tammi had just taken the last bite of her dessert. He suspected that there was some pre-arranged signal between them. Tammi got up and put her napkin on her plate, Eric following suit, and then she came over and kissed Nick on the cheek. "I'm glad to see you looking better," she said quietly. "I'll see you on Friday, then?"

"Thanks," he said, and meant it deeply. Eric shook his hand and said his goodbyes, and then they were off, Cody showing them to the door.

"Let me help," said Tim. Nick was surprised at how smoothly Tim leveraged him to his feet; he stood there a moment, a little light-headed. Tim helped him out of the dining room, and Cody rejoined them, taking his right arm over his shoulders to help with some of the weight. Nick hissed at the pain in his shoulder, and they both looked at him.

"It's just a little stiff," said Nick irritably. "C'mon, I've been lying on it for a couple weeks straight..."

"Why don't you lie down on your back, and I'll take a look at your shoulder," said Tim in a pleasant tone.

"I told you, it's just a little stiff." He couldn't help but feel a little guilty at having cut the party short. Together they helped him sit down on the bed, and he pulled off his shirt slowly, wincing again. Tim murmured something to Cody, who left, and Nick took off his socks and slid under the sheets.

"How long has it been bothering you?" asked Tim, manipulating his arm.

"Just a couple days."

"Let me know when it hurts." Tim moved his arm, rotating it slowly, and Nick hissed when it became uncomfortable. "Tender, huh?"

"Little."

"How about this?"

"Yeah." Nick exhaled.

Tim let Nick's arm rest next to his side. "It's a good thing you're underweight, or we'd be setting up a rotator cuff surgery for you, too. It looks like it's just a little inflamed. Try to sleep on your back tonight, and I'll stop by tomorrow and check on it."

Cody came back in with a bulging hand towel which he put on Nick's shoulder. It was cold, and Tim adjusted it slightly and then pulled up the comforter, covering him. "It's probably time for another pill," said Cody quietly. Tim nodded.

The ice pack felt good against his shoulder. Nick took the pill without complaint, and Cody touched his arm lightly and smiled. Tim gave Cody a quick, appraising glance.

Tired to his core, Nick felt his eyelids drooping shut. He thought he heard Tim saying something, but then the voices drew away and he fell asleep.

* * *

The delicious feel of hot, wet skin sliding against his own. A smooth, hard chest. A voice like honey in Nick's ear. He moaned in delight as hands touched him, stroked him, a wet mouth against his neck, licking, sucking—

He woke up, disoriented. The ice pack had slid from his shoulder, and Cody was asleep next to him, snoring lightly.

His cock throbbed, and he knew that he was too turned on to try to ignore it. Getting up, he hobbled to the bathroom and closed the door, bringing himself off as quickly as he could. It didn't take long, especially after a naked image of Cody suddenly coalesced in his mind's eye, and together with the leftover sensations from the dream he came with a gasp.

Flushing the toilet, he stood for a second, wishing the shake in his legs would go away. He washed his hands and crawled back in bed, back into the warmth.

"Find everything okay?" Cody's voice was quiet, but he could hear the amusement in his tone.

Nick blushed, glad it was dark. "Yeah."


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning Cody was gone before Nick woke up. Michele was there, and she made him oatmeal and asked him more questions about Airwolf 2000 before disappearing into the office.

Nick finished his breakfast and went back out into the living room. He found the remote with the cheat sheet and followed the instructions, pressing buttons on different remotes until he found the news. The forecast called for a perfect California day, with little wind and lots of sun, and he wished he could take Mimi out for a spin.

He missed flying. It was like an ache in his chest. He loved being in the sky, the controls in his hands, the chopper responding to his lightest touch. The thought of Mimi being grounded, stuck in a musty hangar, made him feel awful. She'd seen too much horror in her time and she deserved to have her day in the sun.

 _I sound even crazier than usual._ He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and he sat up, surprised. Michele came out of the hallway and went to answer it, and Nick got up off the couch to see who it was.

Two men were standing in the doorway, wearing overalls streaked with dust. Michele looked over a clipboard, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"What's up?" asked Nick.

"Furniture delivery," said the guy on the left.

"Furniture delivery," repeated Nick, blinking.

"It looks like it's all in order," said Michele. "You might have to bring the couch through the back, though. There's a sliding glass door off the patio."

"Sounds good," said the guy on the right. The guy on the left took the clipboard back and they walked off in the direction of the truck, which was parked in the driveway. The side read, "Michael's Furniture Boutique."

"You know about this?" asked Nick.

"Mr. Allen called me this morning about it." She turned to him and smiled. "It's about time he got some new furniture. That couch is ugly and the chairs are really not comfy."

"Yeah, I noticed." Nick went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. The guys from Michael's took out the old couch and chairs first, and then began bringing in new pieces of furniture, all sealed in plastic. Michele opened each piece and inspected it in turn, and when they were done, she directed them where to arrange everything, signed their paperwork and sent them on their way.

"He really picked well," she said enthusiastically. "These are so much more fashionable."

Nick stared at the long couch, the loveseat, and the dual recliners. "Uh...yeah." The recliners looked incredibly comfortable and inviting.

"They look so new! I love the color. I wonder what he's planning on accenting them with. Maybe some new art." She ran her fingers over the back of the couch. "And the fabric is so nice. Cotton. So lightweight." The phone rang in the office and she dashed off to get it.

He stared at the furniture for a long moment. _Why did Cody get a new couch? And recliners? He doesn't even like recliners._ He kept staring, as if the furniture would explain itself.

His hip began to ache more insistently, and he went out to the patio and sat down, his mind still whirling over the puzzle of the furniture. There was very little breeze, but it wasn't hot; he watched the birds in the lemon tree.

Off in the distance, there was Friday, and surgery. Time in the hospital. He rubbed the back of his neck absently. Worse than the hospital would be the days spent in the rehab wing. _Maybe I can pick up a crossword puzzle book or something._ He remembered Del's check and groaned. _Gotta get that cashed._

He let his hand drop back to his side. If Cody gave him the check, he could just sign it over to him. _It'll be a good down payment toward the rest of it. If Cody'll even take it._ He sighed aloud.

A bird twittered from a high branch of the lemon tree. He closed his eyes and listened. Its song was simple, a few notes, and he wondered if it was marking territory or trying to call a mate.

Kathy popped into his mind, and he wondered what she was doing, and whether she'd found someone new. He still felt baffled by her curt rejection. It hurt that she'd done it over the phone, that she hadn't respected him enough to dump him face-to-face. He remembered using a week's worth of grocery money to take her out to dinner.

Really, he should have known by the look on her face when they'd first met. Her eyes had raked over him, lingering on the cane, and he'd known that it was doomed.

 _Wish she'd been honest and just called it off there._

Everywhere he went, the cane attracted attention. Even if the cane didn't faze people, the limp was bound to, or his haggard appearance. He wondered if he'd ever get a date again.

Furniture. Recliners. Cody. His mind circled right back to the heart of his confusion. _Stop trying to complicate things. It was probably just time for a new sofa._ He rubbed his eyes and sank back into the chaise lounge. _The simplest explanation is usually the right explanation._ That made him think of Murray, and he winced.

The birds quieted, and a neighbor started up a weed trimmer. The drone seemed to silence his chaotic thoughts, and he simply stared out across the pool until his eyelids slid shut and he fell asleep.

* * *

"Nick?"

Nick came awake, blinking. "Hmm?"

Tim was in front of him, smiling. "How's the shoulder?"

"Fine," said Nick automatically. He sat up, his hip throbbing. The afternoon had grown overwarm while he slept. The air was thick and he felt hot and sticky and light-headed.

"I think it might be time to head inside, don't you?" said Tim, looking at him closely.

Nick rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Mmm. Yeah."

Tim helped him up, and he stood there a moment, waiting for the dizziness to fade. "Nick?"

"I'm fine." He reached for his cane, and with Tim's help, he managed to get into the bedroom, where he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes against the spinning of the room.

"Lift your head for a second," said Tim, and Nick did, and then a cool wet washcloth was under his neck. It felt good against his overheated skin. He simply lay there and let the heat ebb away.

"Feeling better?"

Nick opened his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks." He felt a prickle of embarrassment. He sat up slowly and realized that his shirt was damp from sweat.

"Why don't you change, and I'll make some lunch," said Tim.

Nick nodded in reply, and Tim left, leaving the door open. Nick rubbed his eyes again and shivered. Making his way into the closet, he shed his damp clothes and put on a fresh shirt and pair of sweatpants, and then went into the kitchen.

"Hope you like grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup," said Tim apologetically.

"Great," said Nick, easing himself into a chair. The pain in his hip was building into something intense.

"Your surgery's this week, so you'll have to ease back on the painkillers." Tim set down a steaming bowl of soup in front of him next to a glass of water. "There are one or two that are safe to take, but unfortunately they're not as effective."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's fine with me, doc. I hate taking them, anyway."

"Just try to stay off your feet." Tim gave him an appraising look. "In fact, I think that you should spend the rest of the day in bed."

Nick nodded, and dipped his spoon into the soup. It was hot and he realized he was hungrier than he'd thought. The grilled cheese sandwich was the perfect thing to go with it, and he ate it all while Tim made a phone call. _Probably another progress report to Cody._ He felt better, though, now that he was inside and away from the heat.

"How's your shoulder?" asked Tim, sitting down across from him.

"Fine." Nick leaned back in his chair and shifted his leg slightly.

"Good." He took the empty bowl and plate and put them in the sink. "So what do you think of Cody's new furniture?"

"Looks great."

"I was pretty surprised when I came in. Jake picked the old set out, from what I know. I never thought he'd get rid of them."

"Cody likes to hold onto things." Nick took a drink of water. "His mom sent him his Mouseketeer ears from their trip when he was a kid, and he made a big deal out of being embarrassed and throwing them out, but years later when I was cleaning out one of the lockers I found them."

Tim grinned. "Mouseketeer ears? I can imagine him at Disneyland, wondering what the real estate value of Frontierland was."

Nick grinned in return, but inwardly he knew that Cody would have looked for adventure in Frontierland. It was obvious that Cody loved the thrill of the real estate game, but being a detective had been his boyhood dream come true. "He's good at selling houses."

"Absolutely," agreed Tim. "Though I doubt that Rick Bernard would agree..."

Nick was confused for a moment until he remembered that Rick was Cody's original broker. "Why not?"

"Don't you know?" Tim looked surprised. "Right around the time Cody signed on, there was a high profile client trying to sell a property. Only it turned out that it had partially burned down some years back, and the client didn't want to tell prospective buyers about it. Cody did a tour of the house, and he told the buyers about the fire and the damage. The client was furious and there was talk of a lawsuit."

"Wow. Bet Rick was pissed."

"Spitting nails. They managed to sell it anyway, but not through Cody."

"I bet."

"Jake told me about it. He was always worried about Cody..." He looked uncomfortable.

"Let me guess. He thought Cody was too honest for the business."

"In a way." Tim gave him a frank look. "I think he was worried that being in the business might make Cody...less honest. That it might change him."

Nick didn't know how to reply, so he gave a nod instead. The pain in his hip was becoming more insistent, and he tried to sit back slightly, only to spark further pain. Tim helped draw him up out of the chair and supported him while they walked to the bedroom.

After he got in bed, Tim insisted on manipulating his shoulder again. "You're still feeling a little tenderness?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Don't sleep on it today if you can help it." Tim checked his pulse and respiration and recorded it on the paperwork he'd brought. "If you're still having trouble after the surgery, then we'll schedule some tests."

 _Great._ "Yeah, sure." He tried not to shudder at the thought of another MRI.

"Get some rest." Tim smiled at him and then left, checking his pager.

It was hard to get comfortable with his hip aching so much, but somehow he managed, and sleep claimed him. Vague, unsettling dreams swept in like the tide, and he found himself wandering the deck of the _Riptide_ , the sun setting before him. The boat disappeared, and then he was standing in an alley, the light dim and smoky.

Murray was there, hands bloody, eyes empty. Guilt rushed through Nick like wildfire. He got down on his knees and begged, feeling tears slide down his face. Murray stood, still as stone. A cold wind howled. "Murray, please listen to me," sobbed Nick. "I'm so sorry—"

Murray's face lit with an expression of anger and blame as he raised his arm, and a single finger pointed at him, accusatory, damning. Darkness pressed down upon him, crushing him to the pavement, and he let out a ragged cry, struggling to get up again. He felt the hot scratch of asphalt on his cheek.

Panting, he lay still, and the feelings ebbed away. Gradually he came awake, the soft white light in the room a relief after the dark intensity of the dream. He stared at the ceiling. Murray's eyes haunted him, the condemnation and the anger lingering, and he exhaled, his heart aching.

The afternoon hours passed slowly. Michele checked in as she was leaving, but otherwise he lay there and thought about the Mehti case, the bloody images and the horror swirling in his mind's eye. He wondered how Murray was doing. He wondered how he dealt with the nightmares.

Cody came in just after four, and simply lay down on the bed next to him, looking tired. His suit still looked fresh and elegant, though he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Feeling okay?"

Nick nodded in return, yawning, letting his hand drop. His eyes shot open again as he felt Cody's hand in his hair.

"Never seen it so long." Cody gently carded his fingers through his hair.

"I was gonna get it cut..."

Cody's hand slid away from him. "You should." It was his turn to yawn. "I'm going to make some dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Sure."

Cody frowned. "Is something...bothering you?"

"Just a bad dream." Nick forced a smile. "I'm fine."

"Oh." Cody looked unconvinced.

"I'm fine," said Nick, a little too loudly.

There was a flash of something on Cody's face, and then it was gone, and he got off the bed and opened the door to the closet. Changing into shorts and a pale blue t-shirt, he headed for the kitchen, and Nick went back to staring at the ceiling. His hip ached incessantly and he tried to move to a more comfortable position.

There wasn't any. By the time Cody came back in, he was on his side, teeth gritted, eyes closed as he tried to breathe through the pain. A light touch to his arm made him open his eyes.

"Hey, big guy..." Cody looked concerned, and Nick didn't think he even noticed that he'd used his old, affectionate nickname.

"Tim said—"

"I know, none of the good stuff." Cody rummaged through the headboard and pulled out a heating pad. "Maybe this will help." Plugging it into the wall, he lifted the blanket and put the pad on Nick's hip, clicking the switch on. "I'll be back."

Nick sighed as the heat began to penetrate. He knew from experience that it wouldn't take away the pain, but it would help the muscles to relax, at the very least. He controlled his breathing, letting the warmth do its work. _Bend. Don't break._ He closed his eyes again, and began to pull apart one of Mimi's wheel assemblies in his head. Every movement careful and studied, every turn of the bolt unhurried, his hands sure and steady.

"Still hungry?"

Nick slowly opened his eyes. "Huh?" Mimi vanished, and Cody was there instead, a look of worry in his eyes. Nick hated that particular look, had always hated it, and realized that he would probably take a hundred Kandawar routes if it meant never seeing that worry in Cody's eyes again.

The enormity of that thought hit him right between the eyes. First, Cody was worried, and it was there in his eyes, more real than anything else had been for weeks.

Second, he was a fool. After Friday, he would never have to worry about that look again. Or anything else about Cody Allen.

"Tim did leave some Tylenol, just in case." Cody gazed at him. "I think you need it."

"Think I'll be okay." Nick concentrated on flexing his right arm.

"I thought Tim told you not to lie on your side today."

"Yeah, and I haven't. I just—" He hissed a little as pain shot through his hip.

"Can you sit up, at least?"

"Yeah, I—" Another hot rush of pain, and he bit back a groan. Cody's hands were on him, helping him up, putting pillows behind his back before he disappeared back toward the kitchen.

Nick adjusted the heating pad and settled into the pillows, and Cody reappeared with a tray. A baked potato (purple, unsurprisingly), steamed green beans, and fish, with a bottle of Tylenol and a cup of tea from Cody's seemingly unlimited store of strange teas.

He ate what he could, and swallowed the pills along with a mouthful of lemon-flavored tea. Cody watched him, his eyes shuttered again, and Nick felt only a flicker of remorse that Cody the robot had taken over again. _Not my problem. Just have to concentrate on breathing in and out. Just have to get through the next few days. Just remember to bend._ Cody left, taking the tray with him, and Nick settled more deeply into the pillows and turned the heating pad up another notch.

The pain eased slightly, and he rotated his arm a little, wincing at the stiffness. After a few minutes, he yawned, and then again. Sleep pressed down on him, and he succumbed.

* * *

Tuesday passed in a blur of pain and crankiness. Unable to take stronger prescriptions, Nick had to tough it out without painkillers, and at first it was difficult. Cody hovered, always nearby, and Nick couldn't help but feel guiltier and guiltier that he'd pulled him away from his work once again.

By the early evening he was exhausted, and fell into a troubled sleep full of dark images. Every time he woke Cody was there, checking if he was all right, and fresh guilt assailed him for giving them both a sleepless night.

The alarm went off the next morning at seven, and Cody got up with only a little grumbling, stumbling off to the bathroom while Nick stayed in bed. The morning light grew stronger, and he finally got up and put on a bathrobe, washing his face in the guest bathroom. In the living room, he sat down in one of the recliners and messed with the remotes until he found the news.

Cody finally emerged, a towel wrapped around his hips, and Nick looked up at him. "How are you feeling?" asked Cody.

"Great. Go on, get out there and sell some houses." Nick tried to smile, but Cody only gave him a skeptical look.

There was the sound of a key in the lock, and Cody vanished back into the bedroom just as Michele came in, her purse and leather bag over her shoulder. She was dressed in black slacks, as usual, with a shiny green blouse. "Good morning, Mr. Ryder," she said cheerfully.

"Nick," he corrected. "Morning."

"And how—" There was a knock at the door, and she turned and answered it. Tim came in, yawning. "Oh, good morning, Dr. Lawrence."

"The gang's all here," said Nick.

"Morning," said Tim. He came in and gave Michele a smile. "Hey, Michele, nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too," she said, closing the door behind him.

"Have you recovered from the Knight Rider reruns yet?"

She giggled. "Oh yes, I'm much better now." She headed for the office.

Tim flopped down on the couch. "You're watching the news? Depressing stuff."

"Want to see the weather." Nick turned down the volume.

"Dr. Coen's assistant called me," said Cody, sitting down on the couch next to Tim. He fumbled with a button on his sleeve, and Nick saw Tim glance at the recliners and then back at Cody. "He wanted to confirm Friday's surgery."

"I assume you confirmed it," said Tim.

"Yes. He wanted to make certain that you'd given Nick all of the information about the surgery..."

"Mostly." Tim sat upright. "I mean, we've already discussed some of it, and some of it shouldn't come as a surprise. Limiting pain medication the week of the procedure, and a day or two of complete rest afterwards. Anesthesia. Plus the possible complications. Paralysis, partial paralysis, infection—"

"What?" said Cody, his voice a little louder than necessary.

Tim looked at him, surprised. "This sort of procedure—well, any procedure involving joints is prone to infection. There's also the possibility of nerve damage, though this is why I referred you to Dr. Coen; he's the best. The chances are extremely low. Infection, though—"

"Nerve damage?" repeated Cody. "But I thought—"

"Cody, there are always risks with any procedure." Tim touched his arm. "He's in very good hands. I'm sure we'll have a fairly positive outcome."

" _Fairly_ positive?" Cody's voice got slightly higher.

"Well, some patients have reported that their pain levels only decreased slightly after this procedure. In nearly all cases, however, a large measure of mobility—"

"I thought that this was going to fix everything."

"Nothing short of a time machine can fix everything," said Tim quietly. "But this procedure is Nick's best chance for increasing his mobility and decreasing his pain level, as I explained before."

Cody nodded, still looking out of sorts. "Okay. I...better get going." He got up and went down the hallway toward the office.

The weather came on, so Nick turned up the volume. Rainy and overcast, which made him feel better about missing out on flying. The weatherman pointed out the pressure system causing the downpour, and Nick watched, trying to calculate when the system would break.

Cody said a curt goodbye to both of them, and then disappeared into the garage. The unmistakable sound of the Caddy starting up reached his ears, and the garage door opened and closed. Tim watched the weather with him, not saying a word, and when the report was over, Nick switched it off.

"Do you have any concerns about Friday's procedure?" asked Tim.

"No." Nick scratched his neck idly. "Just want it to be over already."

"Sure." Tim stared at the recliner for a long moment. "Are you ready for the rehab wing?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Patients always react differently to the stress of an upcoming procedure," mused Tim. "Some put a great deal of effort into appearing calm, because they think other people expect them to be brave."

Nick blinked. "Look, the hardest part for me is the decision. Now that I've made it, I'm okay. I just want it done, so I can get through to the other side."

Tim gave him an appraising look. "And what happens on the other side?"

"Flying," said Nick. "I'll talk to the guy who manages the hangar I fly out of, and hope like hell he has some new routes. Then I'll try to cover what I can cover, and put aside enough money to pay Cody back." _Back to the Bologna Diet._

"I thought that Cody—"

"I know, he doesn't want to be paid back. But I'm going to." Nick exhaled. "Just getting out of his hair will be a great first step."

"I don't think Cody minds you being here," said Tim mildly.

Nick stared at him. "Well, yeah, but this is...too much. Anyway, after Friday, it won't matter what he thinks."

"Why is that?"

"I'll be in the hospital. And after that, the rehab wing, just like you said." Nick leaned back a little further in the recliner. "Cody'll get back to his business full-time, just like he should, and I'll go back to my apartment, and that'll be that."

"Where's your apartment?"

"In Westchester. It's not much to look at, but at least the landlord is halfway decent."

"That's good to have. A friend of mine once ended up in court because of a crooked landlord."

"Yeah, he's a good guy, mostly. He was in Korea, saw some rough stuff. He's good to vets. I didn't have a security deposit scraped together, but he still let me move in without it."

"He let you move in without a security deposit?" Tim looked surprised.

"Yeah. Well, I'd sold my condo, and..."

"Wait—you were living in a condo? And you moved into an apartment?"

"Well, yeah. Look, it's not a pretty story. The accident I was in...the insurance company refused to pay for the chopper. Which meant I had to. So I did." He exhaled. "A chopper, even a little ultralight like that one, is expensive. I had to pay over two hundred grand."

Tim flinched. "Wow."

"Yeah. Not to mention the medical bills that didn't get covered by the VA and a bunch of other stuff for the months I was out. Tammy and Eric helped, and I paid them back later. It took just about everything I had."

"I can imagine. It sounds like a nightmare."

"Y'know, sometimes the weirdest stuff hurts the most." He rubbed the back of his neck. "There was this guy at the airfield, he'd just lost a bunch of weight, and his wife worked as a receptionist...well, she realized we were nearly the same size. Only he was shorter, but she knew how to sew, so it wasn't a problem. We made a deal for my clothes, and I sold him nearly everything I had for $250. Suits, ties, shirts...even my good shoes. And that was the last of what I needed for the first month's rent for the apartment." He looked at the ceiling. "It was just...up until that moment, I could put on a suit, y'know, go to an interview, if I had to. Go out to a club, or even to dinner, and still look like...I mattered." He could his eyes growing damp, and he blinked a few times until the emotion subsided.

"But your clothes don't matter," said Tim. "They're just part of the outer shell you show the world."

"If you show the world something that looks like a bum, it'll treat you like a bum," said Nick emphatically. "Doesn't matter what's inside."

"It does to some people."

"Yeah, well, there aren't many of them around. Trust me on this." He let his hand fall back to his lap.

Tim was quiet, but then he asked, "What if you can't fly?"

"I will." Nick gave him a fierce look. "This won't ground me."

Tim grinned. "Well, based on force of personality alone, you're probably right."

Nick grinned in return.

His pager chirped and he checked it. "Look, sorry to bring doom and gloom and then run, but I have a couple of appointments this morning."

"Yeah, sure. See ya around."

"Bye." He got up. "Bye, Michele," he called down the corridor. Michele's reply was too distant for Nick to hear. Tim left with a final wave.

Nick turned the TV back on and wandered through the channels until he stopped on a nature documentary. He adjusted the recliner a little more. It was soft and comfortable, and he found his eyelids growing heavy, and then he slipped into a deep sleep.

* * *

"Mr. Ryder, I'm leaving," chirped Michele.

Nick came awake, blinking. The TV was still droning on about the spirit of nature, and he rubbed his eyes. "That time already?"

"Yes. I have another test to prep for." She smiled at him. "Your lunch is on the kitchen table. See you tomorrow." She headed for the front door.

He made his way slowly toward the kitchen table. Soup again. _Then again, compared to what I'll be eating next week, this is great._ Sitting down gingerly, he took an experimental sip and found it wasn't too hot to eat.

The phone rang, and he nearly dropped the spoon. He glanced at the caller ID, noticed the name Allen, and picked it up. _Cody, checking up on me._ "Hello?"

"Hello?" A woman's voice. There was an awkward pause. "I must have dialed incorrectly. I was trying to reach Cody Allen."

"This is his number."

"It is? But...then who is this?"

 _Oh hell, it's his mom._ "Nick Ryder," he said reluctantly.

There was an even more awkward pause. "Nick Ryder. What are you doing there?" Her tone was not friendly.

Honesty had to be the best policy in this situation. "Having surgery. Cody's giving me a place to recuperate."

"Why on earth would he do that?"

"I've asked him that myself," said Nick wryly.

"Well. Could you...if you could just tell him I called."

"Will do."

"Goodbye." There was a click before he could even reply.

 _That went better than it could have._ Nick sighed and picked up his spoon.

* * *

The afternoon bled into the early evening, and Cody finally came home, looking tired and stressed, with a bag of Chinese takeout dangling from his hand. He put his keys and the bag on the kitchen table.

"Rough day?"

"You could say that." Cody went into the fridge and grabbed a light beer, popping off the top and draining half of it in one pull.

Nick hated to bring up something painful, but he knew he had to. "Hey, your mom called, and she wants you to call her back."

Cody froze, staring at him. "You answered the phone?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, man, I thought it was you."

He blew out a breath and put the bottle on the counter. "It's okay. Look, you go ahead and start eating. I'll just call her right now and get it out of the way." He headed for the office, and Nick heard him shut the door.

Pulling two plates out of the cabinet, he set them on the table and sat down. There were several containers in the bag, and he opened them at random. He spooned sweet and sour pork on his plate along with some white rice. Cody reemerged after several minutes, his eyes blank and his expression impossible to read.

"So...sell anything today?" asked Nick.

"No. Well, I did finish the paperwork for Phillip Grant's purchase. But that was pretty much a given. He's always wanted Jenni Harmon's place."

"Well, that's great, then, right?"

"Yeah." Cody pushed aside the sweet and sour pork and opened a container of shrimp in a black sauce, dishing out a small portion. "I've got another wild goose chase couple, and I showed them several properties this afternoon."

"Put some miles on the Caddy, I bet."

Cody nodded, and then got up and poured a glass of water for each of them. He sat back down and stabbed a vegetable with his fork. "They're pretty indecisive. I'll probably end up adding another three hundred before it's done."

"Any other leads?"

"One or two. They'll have to wait until next week, though."

"Next week? Why's that?"

"Your surgery is Friday, and I was planning on staying home tomorrow and—"

"You don't need to," said Nick firmly. "And on Friday, you don't have to stay. Tammi'll be there."

"I'm going to be there Friday," said Cody, even more firmly. "Tomorrow—"

"I don't need a babysitter." Nick jabbed his finger in the air. "You're going to lose your business if you keep taking days off like this. Cody, c'mon, listen to me. You know you need to jump on those leads or someone else will. You want Derek to grab those clients?"

"Derek doesn't—"

"Derek, Rick, whoever." Nick helped himself to some chicken fried rice. "Don't give them those chances. You need to keep them for yourself."

"Fine. I'll go in Thursday." Cody's tone was strange; he sounded angry and remote at the same time.

"Great. Hey, the game's on tonight, if you want to watch."

"I forgot about that. Sure." He ate mechanically, as if on autopilot.

The game didn't seem to interest Cody, and Nick found himself falling asleep, so he wasn't disappointed or surprised when Cody yawned and said he wanted to go to bed. Nick took another couple Tylenol and slid under the covers. Within minutes he was completely out.

He dreamt of being in the air, Mimi floating lazily above the ocean, the dazzling blue spreading as far as his eye could see.

A strange noise woke him. A clink, coming from the front of the house. His hand automatically went for his gun in the nightstand, except there was no nightstand. No gun, either. He turned toward Cody, and realized that the other side of the bed was empty.

He pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed his cane. The room was dark, but he could see that there was a light on somewhere else in the house, and as he reached the doorway he noticed that it was coming from the kitchen. _Midnight snack?_

He went out into the living room and peered over the low wall into the kitchen. Cody was sitting on the floor in nothing but a pair of shorts, propped up against the wine rack, an empty bottle of wine next to his knee, a half-empty bottle in his hand. Cody's eyes lifted up to meet his own, and they were dark and dull.

"Cody?" he said. "C'mon, man, this is a bad idea."

Cody stared at him for a moment, as if he didn't understand what he'd said. Then he frowned and said, "Go away."

"It's almost midnight. Why don't you just get in bed? You can celebrate more tomorrow."

"Celebrate?" said Cody, looking wounded. "Don't be...stupid." His speech was a little slurred. "I have nothing to celebrate."

Nick was alarmed. It looked like Cody might cry again. "C'mon, sure you do. You sold a house. Things are looking good. You're going to play tour guide to houses of the rich and fabulous again tomorrow. First, though, you need some sleep."

He blinked, long and slow. "No."

"C'mon, buddy, take a break. The wine'll be there tomorrow." He hobbled around the low wall and into the kitchen.

Cody looked down at the wine bottle in his hand. "The wine is here tonight."

"Well, yeah, but it's not going anywhere. It'll be here tomorrow night, too."

"No, it's here, and it's my house, and if I want to..." Cody squeezed his eyes shut, putting his head down on his knees and curling into a ball.

Nick put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon. Bed won't fix everything, but it's a good start."

"No fair using my father's advice against me." Cody's voice was muffled.

"He was a smart guy. Now can we get in bed? My feet are freezing."

At that, Cody looked up, and an expression of guilt lit his face for a second. "Okay." He uncurled and got up, none too steadily, and Nick held onto his arm as he wobbled. "Ugh." He put a hand on his face.

"Sick?"

"No. Just...dizzy." After a few moments, he took a step, and then another, and Nick stayed at his side, holding his arm. _Not that I'd be any help if he starts to take a header._

"That's it," encouraged Nick. "Halfway there already."

"Don't patron...patro...just don't." Cody tried to glare at him, but it was so comical that Nick could only laugh.

"Look, buddy, best thing to do is sleep it off and leave the multisyllabic words for tomorrow, okay?" Nick helped him back to the bedroom.

Cody didn't even bother taking off his shorts. He flopped down on the bed and started snoring immediately. Nick turned off the light and stripped off the bathrobe, and got in bed.

Sleep was a long time in coming.

* * *

Nick yawned and stretched. His hip ached, a low, throbbing pain. The door to the bathroom was closed, and he could hear the water running. The morning sun lit the room with a soft, golden light.

He grabbed his cane and made his way to the guest bathroom, where he took care of himself and splashed a little water on his face and brushed his teeth. He avoided looking in the mirror.

His hip hurt worse, and he barely managed to get to the recliner and sit down. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and let his breathing even out.

"Nick?"

Blinking, he opened his eyes. Cody hovered over him, wearing only a towel.

"Morning," said Nick.

Cody gazed at him. "What's going on?" He looked only a little worse for wear from his wine binge the night before.

"Had to use the head." He shifted and winced.

"Nick, I don't think—" They both turned to look as a key rattled in the lock. Michele came in, and Cody turned back to him. "I think I should stay home."

Michele turned bright red, staring in shock at Cody, and Nick couldn't figure out why until he realized that Cody was nearly naked, damp from the shower, the muscles of his left arm bunched as he held the towel. "Nah, go to work. I'll be fine. Michele's here, and she'll call you if anything goes wrong. Right, Michele?"

She swallowed visibly, her eyes still fixed on Cody's torso. "Y-yes. I mean, uh, yes. I'll call."

"I don't know..." Cody frowned. "I think it's a bad idea."

"Cody, c'mon. We already talked about it. Just go give your tour of King Harbor's finest castles."

Reluctance was plain on his face. "You might need some help, Nick."

Nick was painfully aware of Michele witnessing their conversation. "I'll get by. I always do."

Something burned in Cody's eyes for a moment, but then faded. "Fine. I'll just...I'll stop and check when I can, and Michele will keep an eye on you." He turned to her. "Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, I mean, I've already been keeping...helping out," she answered quickly. She looked him in the eye, the color still high in her cheeks.

"Thanks." He smiled at her, and went back into the bedroom.

An awkward silence fell over the two of them. "How was your test the other day?" asked Nick finally.

"I don't know yet," she said. She seemed to be trying to compose herself. "I'm still waiting for the results. I wanted to talk to the professor, but he had a line of students."

"I'm sure you did great." Nick gave her a reassuring smile. "So...what's on Cody's agenda for the day?"

That did the trick. "Oh, he's supposed to show the Lindstroms several properties. And he's got an open house to prepare for on Saturday, and a bio to write for the newest Realtors Directory..."

 _An open house on Saturday. That's great. The sooner he gets back into work, the better._ "Sounds busy."

"Yes, he really is. Four proofs for newspaper ads, and then there's a new client he's meeting this afternoon..."

 _He shouldn't be checking in on me._ Nick felt a wave of guilt assail him. _I'll just have to convince him I'm fine today by myself._

The phone in the office rang, and she excused herself, dashing off down the hallway. Nick concentrated on his breathing, trying to keep his mind off the pain.

He thought of last night, Cody drunk in the kitchen, and wondered what had set him off. Then he remembered the phone call from his mom. He winced, knowing that he had probably been the cause for an unpleasant conversation.

"You should get back in bed," said Cody. He was dressed in another expensive suit. The blue of his tie brought out the gorgeous blue of his eyes.

He knew better than to argue with that tone. Cody helped him out of the recliner, and together they headed back to the bedroom. Nick was already worn out from the pain and the short trip, and he sank into the mattress with an involuntary groan.

Cody looked even more worried, and sat down next to him. "Nick, I don't know—"

"It's okay." Nick closed his eyes against the spin of the room. "C'mon, Cody, just go. I'll stay in bed, eat my veggies, drink my Ovaltine, whatever."

"I'll check in. I'll stop by whenever I can..." He sounded very reluctant to leave.

"Cody, I'll be okay. I'm serious." He wondered why he wanted to stay so badly. It couldn't be a reaction to the Derek incident; he'd left him alone after that, after all. He yawned.

He felt the gentle touch of Cody's hand against his jawline. "You'll stay in bed?"

"I said so, right?"

"You'll call me if you need anything."

"Yeah."

"If you don't, Michele will." His fingers were warm as they traced a path down to his shoulder.

"Mmm."

"Just take it easy, Nick. I'll be back." Cody's voice was soft, and he gently squeezed his shoulder, and then the mattress shifted.

"Bye." He lay still, concentrating on his breathing. On not letting the pain get to him.

He'd rebuilt Mimi's carburetor in his head three times before Michele came in with lunch. He found he was hungrier than he'd expected. No tea, but there was a big glass of water, and he drank that slowly. A shadow flitted across the room; a bird, flying across the window.

He wished he was flying.

Tomorrow morning, he'd start another round of being an invalid. _Not that the first round ever really ended._ Nurses and doctors endlessly checking in on him, physical therapy, sleepless nights, and more pain. He sighed.

Taking hold of his cane, he shifted the blankets, meaning to get up.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Cody came in, looking hurried. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," said Nick automatically.

"Where are you going?"

"The head."

"I'll help." Cody came over and anchored an arm around his waist, bringing him to his feet slowly. "Lean on me," he added unnecessarily.

The walk wasn't a long one, but Nick was still tired by the time he got back into bed. Cody covered him with the blankets, and brought him more Tylenol, nearly spilling the pills in his haste to get them out of the bottle. Nick swallowed them with the last of the water, and within minutes he was asleep.

He woke up again a few hours later, and after his head cleared, he made his way to the bathroom and took a long hot shower. The last he'd be taking for a while. He tried not to think about that as he sat under the deliciously warm water. He lathered his hair with some of Cody's shampoo and then rinsed it, watching the soap flow across the tiles to the drain.

 _Last day of freedom._ He sighed and turned the dial, making the water hotter, and he just sat there for a while, until there was too much steam. Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and began to dry off.

A tap at the bathroom door. "Mr. Ryder? Are you all right?"

"Nick. It's Nick. I'm fine, Michele." He eased himself up off the bench and finished toweling himself dry. Opening the fogged glass shower door, he gingerly stepped out onto the floor, and put on a bathrobe.

His cane was waiting there, and he took it in hand and made his way out of the bathroom. Michele was standing in the bedroom, looking agitated, a cordless phone held in her hand.

"I'm getting back in bed," he said, trying to calm her down. "Look, I just wanted to take a quick shower."

Her eyebrows rose at that, but she said nothing, and instead started dialing a number on the phone as she left the room.

He lay down, feeling warm and marginally better. Cody's bed was soft and inviting, and he had to admit that it was a hell of a lot better than his own in all ways. No springs poking him in the leg, and no hole for his elbow to sink into. He let himself relax and think about what would happen after the surgery. A couple weeks at the rehab wing, maybe three weeks, tops, and then he'd be released to the apartment. He'd have to take it easy for another couple weeks. _I can do the filter work during that. Get Mimi back in shape and ready to fly. Just have to work slow and careful._

Tammi and Eric would probably help out like they had before. Arnie wouldn't be around; he'd been taking care of his mom for the last two months, but Nick could make do without him. _I need groceries. And some cash. They never cover all the prescriptions..._

He realized that the key to getting through all of this was Del's check.

Grabbing his cane, he went to the office. Michele was gone, like he'd expected, and he looked at her desk. Nothing there but real estate paperwork.

Cody's desk was a different story. On the corner was a stack of mail addressed to Nick Ryder. He picked it up and thumbed through the letters. Most were bills that had been opened, with payment dates scrawled on them in Cody's handwriting. He winced a little at that.

His driver's license renewal made him pause. It hadn't been paid, and it was due in a month.

 _I wonder what Cody'd think if I borrowed the Yukon..._

He shook his head. Like it or not, he doubted he could stand in line long enough to make it to the DMV counter. He'd have to wait until after the surgery. He flipped through the rest of the mail.

No check from Del.

He heard the sound of the garage door opening. Putting the mail down, he looked over the rest of Cody's desk, but it was bare. He had no intention of going through his drawers, and he sighed and leaned on his cane.

"Nick, what are you doing in my office?"

He turned to see Cody looking visibly angry. _Nothing to do but just be honest._ "Looking for Del's check. I need to cash it."

Surprise flickered across Cody's face, and then he went behind the desk, pulling out a drawer and rummaging through it. Finally he brought out a folded bit of paper and handed it to him.

"Thanks," said Nick, relieved. He checked the amount and it was enough to get by. For a little while, at least. "Look, I really need to deposit this. I mean, I hate to ask you for another favor, but could you take it to the bank for me?" He thought for a moment. "Or maybe I could give it to Tammi, tomorrow..."

"After your surgery?" asked Cody, looking astonished. "Nick, no, that's not even an option. I'll deposit it for you."

"My bank's First King Harbor." He looked around for a pen.

"Here." Cody handed him one and watched as he signed it, and then gave him an envelope.

"Thanks." Nick put the check in and sealed it. "I really—"

There was a loud tapping at the front door. Cody swore. "That's a client. Just...you should go lie down." He dashed off to the front of the house.

Nick left the envelope on the desk, and walked slowly down the hall toward the living room. His hip throbbed, and he gritted his teeth against the familiar pain. He heard voices and wondered what the new client would make of Cody having a strange man in a bathrobe wandering around his house.

 _Nothing good._ He tried to hurry, but ended up with one hand on the wall of the living room, fighting off a dizzy spell. Cody's arm was around him, suddenly, and he nearly stumbled. "Your client..."

"Lean on me," ordered Cody quietly. Nick did, but he couldn't help but look over his shoulder. A woman with a stylish hairdo stood, pointedly examining one of the paintings in the living room.

In the bedroom, Nick slid under the sheets, winded and aching. "I'm sorry," he said. "I forgot you were meeting someone. I..." _I hope I haven't ruined your business. I hope I haven't destroyed your reputation. I hope I haven't just fucked everything to hell on the last night I spend here._

"Don't worry," said Cody with a tight smile. "Derek's already made certain that everyone knows you're here."

He looked up at him, shocked. "Cody...man, I'm sorry. He's an asshole."

"Don't get out of this bed," warned Cody. "I'll be back, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Nick pulled the covers up a little higher and watched him leave.

Regret and guilt swirled in his head. _That bastard. Wish I could teach him a lesson._ He wanted to swear, put his fist into a wall, but he knew it wouldn't help. The anger bled away, to be replaced with cold, inescapable logic. _I've cost Cody too much._

It was like a punch to the gut. The thought that he might have hurt Cody—damaged his business, his relationships with his friends, and hurt his reputation—it made him feel sick. _The sooner I'm out of his life, the better._

There was an ache in his chest at that thought. _He needs to forget about me and get on with his life._

That hurt, too. Frustrated, he stared at the ceiling. _I hope it's not too late. I hope I didn't screw everything up._ He forced himself to remember his plan. _He'll deposit the check, and I'll start routes with Del in another month, and I'll start paying him back._ He frowned. _A small check every week, or one big check?_ Checks every week meant Cody would be reminded of him too often. _One lump sum it is, then._

He was unsettled inside, still. Despite the relief he felt at the prospect of finally being out of Cody's hair, there was also a feeling of...loss. He'd grown to like Cody's house. _Who wouldn't? It's got every luxury you could ever want. And Cody—_

He refused to finish that thought.

It was understandable that he'd grown used to having hot showers and a comfortable bed, and that he'd miss those things. He would just deal with thoughts of Cody in much the way he always had; it was in the past, and he had to live in the present.

He closed his eyes and let his breathing even out, forced himself to relax and think of other things. Flying. Mimi. Carburetor.

A sound woke him. He blinked awake. _Must have dozed off._ Cody was there, bringing him a tray of food, and Nick was glad that it was the last time he'd have to do it. "Hey," he said, and cleared his throat.

"I only have a little time." Cody set the tray down and helped him sit up. "I've got some text to proof and some people to call—"

"I'll be fine," promised Nick. "Just do your thing." He winced as he settled into place.

Cody gave him a dubious look. "Okay. But if you need anything, just call me on my cell phone. I'll be in the office." He put his business card down on the comforter alongside the cordless phone.

"Great." Nick gave him a smile and Cody left, checking his watch.

The tray held a bowl of soup and a piece of bread, along with some water. Nick ate it all and then settled down, hoping to sleep.

He dreamt of things fading, the sky bleached to a bone white, the ocean a faint, hot green, evaporating. Everything crumbling to dust under his fingertips as he tried to hold it together. Cody, in front of him, eyes wide with terror—

 _No—anything but Cody—_

He came awake, frightened and panting for air, shaking like a leaf. Sitting up, he put his face in his hands, trying not to cry. _Stop it,_ he told himself savagely. _You can't have him. You threw it all away._ He sat, huddled on the bed, letting the pain in his heart slowly bleed away, until the pain in his hip cut through everything and he could only clench his teeth and try to ride it out.

The light in the room had dimmed. Twilight was approaching.

Morning couldn't come soon enough. He had to get out of there. He was strong, especially after what he'd gone through in the last year, but this was too much. This would make anyone crazy.

 _Just have to get through the night._ Tomorrow would be better. It always was.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick woke up feeling marginally better. It was dark out, and according to the clock it was after nine. There wasn't a TV in the bedroom, so he made do with a book he found in the headboard. A generic military thriller by someone he'd never heard of. He flipped through it idly, grimacing whenever a helicopter was involved; clearly the guy knew nothing about choppers. Especially when it came to refueling.

He scratched his neck idly as he read a few more paragraphs. The hero of the story was a super soldier, a lone wolf renegade who had a girl in every port and a gun for every situation. It was absorbing enough that it took his mind off the dream. And the surgery, too.

Eventually he couldn't ignore the need to use the bathroom. He eyed the business card. Cody's picture was on the right hand side, a charming, million-watt smile on his face. Nick picked up the phone and dialed Cody's cell number. He heard the annoying chirp across the house.

Cody didn't even pick up; he ran into the room like all the hounds of hell were at his heels.

"Whoa—I just need to hit the head," said Nick, dropping the phone on the bed.

"Oh." Cody blinked, and then exhaled. "Of course. I just got wrapped up in some things..."

"Sure." He sat up a little, and Cody immediately leaned down to help him. Nick could smell his cologne.

Back in bed, Nick yawned again. Cody tucked the blankets around him and then left. Nick rubbed his shoulder and shifted in the bed. Tomorrow. Hard to believe that he'd spent over two and a half weeks with Cody, that it had been nearly three weeks since he'd fallen at Tammi's party. He shuddered at the thought of it.

Cody came back in and stood in front of his closet, taking off his clothes and tossing them into a laundry basket. The muscles in his back flexed. Nick couldn't help himself; he stared at the beautiful perfection of Cody's golden body, the long lines of his form, his broad shoulders, muscled thighs...the ass that had driven him just about mad with lust.

 _That's all in the past._ He turned his eyes to the ceiling. There was a dip in the mattress as Cody settled in, and then he turned the light off.

"We have to get up early," said Cody softly.

"Yeah."

"We need to get to the hospital by eight because of the paperwork. And you have to meet with the anesthesiologist. They have to set up an IV—"

"Yeah, I know."

There was silence for a moment. "Sorry. I'm just...I want to be prepared."

"That's great. And I really appreciate it," soothed Nick.

A heartbeat or two, and then Cody rolled on his side. "Goodnight."

"Night."

* * *

Disjointed images. Confusing thoughts. Nick woke up, blinking, and tried to figure out where he was. White walls. Muted light. Not the reserve barracks. Not his apartment.

Then he remembered. Cody's house. He could hear water running. A set of clothing was laid out on the bed, sweatpants and a soft flannel shirt, and he sat up gingerly and put them on. The shirt seemed unfamiliar, but that didn’t make sense. Cody didn’t own any flannel shirts, so it had to be one of his own.

He rubbed his eyes and grabbed his cane. In the guest bedroom he brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face, but he still felt groggy. He sat down in a recliner and turned on the news.

Cody came in, the expression on his face fully shuttered, his body wound tight as a drum. There were dark circles under his eyes. "I just need a few minutes for breakfast, and then we're ready to go."

"Sure. Take your time." The weather report came on. _Bad flying weather._ He yawned and stretched a little. The pain in his hip ratcheted up another notch, and he rubbed it absently as he watched a news story about a dog who had rescued her owners by calling 911.

"Ready?" asked Cody.

"Yeah, sure." He turned off the TV. "Ready as I'll ever be." With Cody's help he got out of the chair, and slipped on his shoes as they headed out into the garage. The door to the Yukon was open, and he got in, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through his hip.

Cody was silent as he drove to the VA hospital. The only sound was the thump and squeak of the windshield wipers.

"You might want to try some rubbing alcohol," said Nick.

"What?" asked Cody.

"On your wipers. They're squeaking."

"Oh. Right." Cody turned his attention back to the road.

The grey, rainy landscape wasn't much to look at, but Nick tried to enjoy it. He wouldn't be in a car again for a couple weeks, after all, and the VA hospital wasn't known for its natural beauty.

He could almost feel the tension flowing from Cody. Every muscle was bunched; his hands were almost white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

Morning traffic was slow as usual, and the 405 was congested. Cody took the exit for Wilshire, and Nick could see the VA cemetery through the driver's side window, rows of white headstones laid out in perfect symmetry. He felt a pang of sadness wash over him. Cody kept his gaze pointedly focused on the road as the rain grew harder, pelting the Yukon.

The admitting paperwork at the hospital was lengthy. Nick sat down with a clipboard and tried to concentrate on filling it all out. Page after page of waivers. Insurance information (even though that was a lost cause). Medical history. Allergies. People to notify in the event of an emergency.

There was only Tammi and Cody left for that, but he paused before he put Cody's name down. Tammi didn't have medical power of attorney, though, and Cody did, so he printed his name with reluctance. _Hope they don't have to call him for anything._ He signed his name again and again, wrote in his social security number, and then went through the pages once more to make certain he hadn't missed anything. He'd never been so scrupulous with anything before that didn't involve a gun or a chopper, but he'd learned that double-checking often meant not having to walk back up to the desk again.

The woman behind the desk was grim and efficient, and went through his paperwork quickly. "Thank you, Mr. Ryder. You may have a seat, and we'll call you when we're ready."

"Great. Thanks." He limped back to the uncomfortable chairs and sat down slowly, wincing at the pain in his hip. Cody glanced at him, his expression neutral, but his hand lifted off his lap, as if he wanted to help him.

Finally situated, Nick leaned back in the chair and tried to relax. There were other people in the waiting room, but no one was chatting, and the mood seemed low. Cody was completely still next to him, the tendons in his left arm standing out as he clutched the arm of the chair.

 _He's going to have a sore arm tomorrow._ "So where's the open house happening?"

Cody turned to look at him, confused, but then he seemed to collect himself. "It's another one for the Paulsens. They decided to reduce the price, and they're hoping that will increase the interest."

"You don't think so?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I think they could get more for the property. They just need to renovate the kitchen and maybe the master bathroom, and then it would sell in a flash. It's too bad they don't have the time."

"Yeah. But their daughter, right..."

"She's still having a lot of problems, but they think she'll eventually make a recovery. At this point, though, it's months away, and they can't afford to have a house here."

"Huh. Too bad about that."

"It's hard," said Cody quietly. "Watching someone you love who's in pain...having to go in for surgery and bloodwork and tests...it rips you up inside. I feel for them."

Nick frowned, turning to look at him, but then a girl in green scrubs called his name and he felt a flash of apprehension go through his chest. He drew a shaky breath. It was time. _Bend. Don't break._

More paperwork and questions. Nick stripped and got into a hospital bed, and Cody helped him and then stayed with him, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

The anesthesiologist was beautiful. "Hello, you are Nicholas Ryder?"

"Yeah. Nick." He smiled at her.

Her accent was lyrical. "I am Kamana. Your doctor is Doctor Coen, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And you are here for…"

"Hip surgery."

"Yes, I do see that now. Tell me, do you have any allergies that you know of?"

"He's allergic to honeydew melon," interrupted Cody.

"That's it, though," said Nick. "Uh…and last time I had surgery done, I was sick to my stomach afterward."

"That is not uncommon. When was the last time you ate or drank?"

He thought for a minute. "Last night, maybe seven."

"Seven-fifteen," corrected Cody.

"And what is your current weight?"

"One forty-five," answered Nick.

"I see. Do you have any other questions for me?" Her smile was lovely.

"No, can't think of anything."

"Very good." She made more notations on the chart and left it on the counter. "Thank you, Nick. I will see you in the O.R."

"Thanks." He watched her leave. "Nice, huh?"

Cody gave him a tight nod, and then looked down at the floor. They sat in silence.

A half hour later a nurse came in to start an IV. It was relatively painless; the guy was clearly experienced. After another round of name-the-doctor-and-the-procedure, he left.

"You were always scared of needles before," said Cody.

"Yeah, well, I kind of got used to them." His hip twinged and he shifted, exhaling.

Coen stopped by for the pre-surgery check. Cody was silent during it, but then followed the doctor out in the hall. Nick heard them talking quietly.

"What was that about?" he asked when Cody came back in.

"Just...some questions." Cody looked uncomfortable.

They both fell silent. The room seemed to be getting colder. A nurse came to take him away, and Cody seemed like he was going to say something, only nothing came out.

 _This is it. Goodbye forever._ "Hey, Cody," said Nick sincerely. "Thanks. For everything."

Cody only nodded in response, looking down at his feet.

Minutes later, Nick was spiraling into unconsciousness.

* * *

The world materialized into a dark blur. Nick closed his eyes against the horrible spinning and realized his stomach was churning.

"Nick, do you need something?" A female voice, calm and authoritative.

"Sick—" He couldn't even finish the sentence before he was throwing up, acid burning his throat, the muscles of his stomach cramping. A cool wet cloth wiped down his face, and he tried reopening his eyes, but it made the nausea worse. He couldn't stop shivering.

"Do you still feel sick?" asked the voice.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely.

"Just relax. I'm going to page Dr Coen and see if we can't get you something for the nausea."

He nodded, or tried to, and fell into an uneasy half-sleep. It didn't last long, and then he threw up again, and again. His throat burned. The voice was back, telling him that the doctor was on his way. His mouth tasted of bile and he was miserable. There was nothing left in his stomach, and yet it wouldn't stop cramping, and he dry heaved, his misery growing.

Something warm. A blanket? It felt wonderful. The shivering began to die down. He heard Tim's voice telling him that he'd start feeling better soon, and then he was out like a light.

* * *

Pain. Scalding. Nick lay shivering, his hip on fire with a horrible, raw agony that held him tightly in its jaws. He coughed weakly, his throat rasping, and said, "Hurts."

"What?" A different voice than last time. A familiar voice. "Are you in pain?"

"Hurts," he rasped.

"I'll press the call button. Just stay still."

The trembling grew worse. The pain was nearly unbearable, and he moaned. He couldn't remember it hurting this bad before, but it had to have, because nothing could have been worse than lying on the side of that mountain.

Someone's hand was on his own, holding it firmly. He opened his eyes and realized it was Cody. _Why is he still here? Where's Tammi?_ Another wave of agony struck him, and he closed his eyes against it, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. It left him empty and shaken. Used up.

"Hurts too much," he said, exhausted.

"I know," said Cody. His voice sounded strange. Quivery. "Just hold on, Nick, the nurse is coming with something to help. Just a little longer. Please, Nick."

Another wave of agony, the pain in his hip turning into something so harsh and hot and awful that it stole his breath away. For a moment he was aware of nothing except the warm pressure on his hand, and then he heard the sound of footsteps and Cody yelling, and then a beautiful fog rose up and obscured everything.

* * *

Beeping noises. A cough. The sound of a page being turned. Nick slowly came awake, feeling fuzzy and disconnected.

He couldn't get his eyes to open, so he lay still for a long moment. Everything seemed wrapped in cotton. The ache in his hip had died to a small twinge.

The familiar touch of morphine. He felt utterly relaxed.

Eventually he managed to open his eyes. Someone sat next to his bed. "Tammi," he said hoarsely.

Her head shot up and she dropped the book of acrostics she'd been working on. "Nick!" she said, looking relieved. "You're awake." Getting up from her chair, she took his hand into hers.

"Think so," he said. His mouth tasted awful, and his throat hurt. He grimaced. She gave him a sip of water from a styrofoam cup. "Thanks. Thanks for being here."

"Of course," she said immediately. Her smile faltered. "You've given everyone a wild time today."

"What?" He was confused, but then he remembered being sick to his stomach, and later the horrible pain. "Oh. Right."

"I'm so glad you're okay now," she added.

"I feel better." He tried to smile at her, and it must have worked, because she smiled back at him. "Probably don't look so great, though."

She eyed him critically. "Well, no. You look worse than last time, even." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. But emotionally, you seem a lot better. Grounded."

An answer he didn't expect. He tried to make sense of it, but his head was too murky. "Yeah. Sure."

"You've had lots of people checking on you. The anesthesiologist, for one. The nurse from the recovery room even stopped by after her shift to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah?"

"I think she even forgives you for throwing up on her."

"Damn. Was she cute?"

An odd expression flitted across her face, but then she gave him a small smile. "She's married."

"Too bad." He blinked long and slow. "Thought I heard Tim's voice."

"Yes, he was here earlier. He was worried about you, too, but then he had to take Cody home..."

 _What, the Yukon wouldn't start?_ It was hard to keep his eyes open, and he yawned. "Sorry. Tired."

"I'm sure." She squeezed his hand. "In fact, you should probably try to sleep. You had a rough day."

"Mmm." He was already drifting off.

* * *

Nick woke a few times during the night. Nurses kept checking on him. The dressing was changed, his temperature monitored. One time he woke with the shivers, and an attendant brought another blanket fresh from the warmer.

Dreams, loopy and slow, fading in and out of his mind's eye.

"How are you feeling?"

He came awake to find Doctor Coen staring at him. "Fine." The room was lit with early morning sunshine.

"The surgery went very well." He looked pleased with himself. "I repaired the tear, and removed all of the bone fragments, and reduced the scar tissue. You couldn't have gotten a more positive outcome."

"That's great." Nick coughed and grabbed the cup of water from the bedside stand.

Coen looked over his chart while he talked. "The usual length of stay for this procedure is a day and a half to two days. According to Lawrence, you had a reaction to the anesthesia, and there was also a minor complication during the procedure. I'm recommending that you stay an extra day in the facility before you're transferred to the rehab wing."

 _Minor complication?_ He was too tired to try to understand. "Sure, doc."

"The important thing is that you rest and recuperate. Use the nurse call button if you require assistance." He gave him a meaningful look.

"Sure. I will."

Coen wanted to see the incision, and after that, he checked the range of motion and scratched new notes on the chart. A nurse came in to put on a new dressing, and he gave her a few instructions and then left without saying goodbye.

"Feeling better, Mr. Ryder?" said the nurse as she opened a new packet of bandages.

"Nick. Yeah, think so." He was tired, and his hip hurt. She asked him something else, but he was already halfway under a new wave of sleep, and he simply succumbed to it.

* * *

Nick surfaced from a dream, blinking awake. His mouth was dry and he coughed, clearing his throat.

Eyes open, he stared in surprise. Cody sat in the chair next to the bed, elbows on the armrests, his suit wrinkled and his tie hanging askew. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

"What..." He coughed again. "What are you doing here?" Then it struck him that it was Saturday. "Wait—you're supposed to be at an open house."

Cody looked up at him, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. "Michele's taking care of it." His voice sounded rough.

"Michele?" Nick was confused. "What the hell...why's she running your open house?"

Cody opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked away and swallowed heavily.

"I don't get this," said Nick. He took a drink from the cup of water and let his head fall back to the pillow. "Why are you here, man?" His throat burned and he coughed.

Again Cody tried to speak but couldn't.

Alarmed, Nick stared at him. _Something's really wrong._ "What happened? Is it your mom?"

"No," said Cody, his voice cracking. "She's fine." He blinked and then blinked again, as if he was holding back tears.

"Cody," said Nick, making his tone as gentle as possible. "What's wrong? Tell me." This reminded him strongly of three weeks ago, the night Cody'd taken him out to dinner and back to his place to tell him something. With a start, he realized that Cody had never really told him what was troubling him. _And he's been keeping it inside this whole time._ He felt a pang of guilt. "Please, Cody. I'm listening."

Cody nodded shakily, and stared at his knees. His tanned hands were tense, poking out from the ends of his white linen suit jacket. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Nick didn't dare say anything else; he simply waited.

"Nick, I..." He looked up at him, and the mask had dropped away. His eyes were so vulnerable, so full of pain and desperation that Nick felt his heart squeeze in sympathy. "I don't..."

"It's okay," said Nick soothingly. "You can tell me." The raw emotion in Cody's eyes was shocking to see after weeks of blankness.

"After..." Cody exhaled and then pressed his hands to his face.

Pain and grief flooded Nick. There was nothing worse than seeing Cody cry. It twisted him up inside so badly that he felt his own eyes burning. "You gotta let it out. C'mon, Cody. Just tell me."

For a long moment Cody sat there, frozen, but then his hands slid away. His cheeks were wet. The look on his face was unmistakable. "I love you."

Shocked, he froze, thinking that maybe he had misheard, but it was there in Cody's eyes, so real and true that he almost couldn't take in a new breath. The old conduit sparked into life between them like a lightning bolt through the forehead, overwhelming him. He could see into Cody's heart, look into the tangled nest of emotion that brooded there. He couldn't have taken his eyes away even if he'd wanted to.

"After you left me, I...it was bad." Cody paused, and then the words began to pour out of him. "I tried acting like nothing was wrong. I got up in the morning and I walked the pier. I talked to friends. I hung out at Straightaway's, but I wasn't...it was like I wasn't there. Like I was sleepwalking.

"Jake was the only one..." His tone was almost apologetic. "He was the only one who listened. Who really listened. And he was a good guy. He was a safe port in a storm." Cody swallowed. "I loved him. I did." He wiped his eyes. "We were good together. When he died, it was...oh, damn." He got up and grabbed the box of tissues from the bedstand.

He sat down gingerly on the edge of Nick's bed, wiping his eyes with a tissue. "I never got over you. I didn't even know how to. Jake used to get pissed off sometimes. He knew I loved him, but sometimes...I'd dream about you and..." He looked away. "I was angry, too. I couldn't understand why you left. And I wanted...I wanted you back, but I was still mad at you, too, and then after I was with Jake it just..." His hands curled into fists. "After a while, you were like a dream. After Jake died, he was like that, too. A good dream. And I just got used to...living in a nightmare. I kept moving forward, one step at a time."

His hand reached out for Nick's, but hesitated. "When I saw you at the party, I didn't realize it was you at first. And then...when you fell—when I pushed you..." He shuddered, and a look of pain flashed across his face. "It was a shock. I didn't think you'd—fall. I thought...I didn't know..." He stared at his hand, inches away from Nick's. "After I took you to your apartment, I couldn't stop thinking. About you. About us. Everything. And I remembered things. Your laugh. Your warmth. Sometimes...sometimes you were like fire, and it felt so good..." His eyes were full of emotion. "It's been so long since I felt anything. I did things that I shouldn't have and I wasn't...a good person, and I just want you so badly, Nick, I want to wake up next to you and I want you with me and I don't care what happens. I love you and I want you." He choked back a sob, looking so miserable that Nick's stomach flopped.

"Cody..."

"Please." Cody touched the back of his hand, trembling, his fingertips warm. "Please, Nick."

"You are a good person," said Nick, grabbing Cody's hand with both of his. "All right? Get that out of your head first. I don't care what you did, I know it wasn't as bad as you think. _You are a good person._ "

"You don't know." Cody squeezed his eyes shut and tears ran down his cheek. "I should have never worked for Rick."

"Here you go again with that crystal ball crap." Nick sighed. "There's no way you could have known, okay? You went along with the business. So they were evil. You're not guilty just by association, so stop it." He let his grip relax. "You're just human. You've gone through some rough stuff, but you're still here. And most important of all, you left Rick on your own and went someplace better. You get it now?"

He wiped the tears with the back of his free hand. "I just feel so damned guilty."

"I know," said Nick softly. "I can see it."

Bending down, he pressed his forehead against Nick's hands. "Nick, I need you so much." He let out another harsh sob.

"I'm here." Nick reached out and touched Cody's hair, hesitant.

"Please stay with me."

His stomach clenched. "Cody, I'm—I'd be like a lead weight around your neck." He felt his eyes get wet. "I'd ruin your business. And I'm...hell, I can hardly walk, much less do anything else. Don't—"

"I'll make my own decisions," said Cody, looking up, his eyes desperate. One hand reached up to cradle Nick's face. "I want you. I don't care what happens. If you—"

"You can't..." Nick's heart ached. "You've got everything in the palm of your hand. If you take me back you could lose it all."

"I do have everything I want in the palm of my hand," said Cody, smiling. "You're it. Everything. Even if the business falls away. Even if we have to ride around in that...whatever that horrible car you're driving is. I don't care. I'd throw it all away just to have us back again."

Nick tried to answer him again, tried to tell him how stupid he was being, but he was too exhausted. He felt a tension inside of him suddenly give, and he started crying. Cody leaned forward and put his arms around him, gentle and careful. He put his head down on Cody's shoulder and sobbed into the linen fabric. It was all too much. Nothing made sense. Cody murmured in his ear, sweet words, and it was so easy to be held, to give himself over to the comfort of his arms.

The world melted away and nothing existed except for the two of them. Nick was stunned at the revelation that Cody still loved him and wanted him. It seemed to glow inside of him, bright and beautiful. Cody gently ran his hand along his back, warm and strong, and Nick sighed.

"I want you so much," said Cody, his voice muffled.

Nick took a shaky breath, and couldn't seem to find any words. His hip throbbed and his head hurt and he wanted to stay in Cody's arms forever, and that thought startled him. He'd given up hope, had convinced himself that it was over. Forever.

A long pause, and then Cody shifted his embrace, carefully guiding him back to the pillow. Nick winced as his hip throbbed, and Cody stroked his arm, his touch light and warm. They sat in silence for a long moment, Nick trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. It was too hard. He concentrated on Cody's fingers, on how they felt on his skin, the reality of the touch grounding him.

Cody's eyes were full of emotion. "Yesterday was the worst day of my life."

"Huh? Why?"

"I wanted to tell you. Before the surgery, I wanted to tell you...all of this. But I was too afraid. And then Coen came in..."

"Coen came in and what?"

There was a long pause, and then Cody exhaled shakily. "He said the surgery went well. Except..." Cody took his hand and wrapped both of his own around it. "Except he said there was a problem. A complication. With your...heartbeat." The pain in his eyes was so intense that Nick winced. "He said there was an irregularity and...I was—" He shut his eyes. "I thought you..." He took a ragged breath, and seemed to fight for composure. "Jake, he didn't...die right away. He was in the hospital for nearly two days, fighting, but it wasn't..."

"Cody, man, I'm so sorry," said Nick. He could feel the pain, so powerful. _And now here he is, back in a hospital again, with all of that fear, the bad memories, the pain..._ "I didn't know."

Cody only nodded, wiping away tears once again, and Nick leaned forward instinctively to comfort him, but a dizzying flash of pain took his breath away and made the room spin. "Whoa, Nick, take it easy," said Cody, squeezing his hand and looking concerned.

He wanted to say something comforting, something to take the pain away from Cody's expression, but everything was growing murky and confused, and the spinning grew wilder until he closed his eyes against it, and then the dark swallowed him whole.

* * *

Pain. Nick stirred uncomfortably. A different kind of pain, hot and sharp, like a heated knife-blade deep in his hip socket.

"Nick? How are you feeling?" Cody's voice, worried. "Can you hear me? Nick?"

He tried to open his eyelids, but they were heavy like lead. "Hurts."

"Okay. I'll get someone. Try not to move."

 _Not planning on doing the tango._ He lay still, the pain sawing at him. After a few minutes and another round of morphine the agony began to loosen, and he sank into the quiet of the room, letting the tension go.

Yesterday's conversation suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. _Cody._ He opened his eyes, looking around the hospital room. The curtain was drawn around the next bed, and the light coming in from the window was dim.

His eyes finally settled on Cody, who sat watching him, his expression shuttered. It scared him. _Please, no more robot Cody._ "Hey," he croaked.

Cody smiled, and it glowed in his eyes. Relief flooded Nick. "How are you feeling now?" asked Cody softly.

"Better," he said, exhaling. "You?"

Cody only nodded. Nick could feel his thoughts circling, fuzzy and indistinct, and he went to rub his eyes, only he forgot about the IV in his left hand at first. He blinked slowly. There was something he should be saying, but he couldn't figure out what it was. "Cody..." He blinked in surprise as Cody suddenly appeared, very close.

"Nick? What do you need?"

"I don't know." His throat hurt, and he coughed. "What...what am I saying? I mean...what should I..."

"You're not making a lot of sense," said Cody, with a smile.

"Yeah."

"It's okay, Nick. I'm used to it."

Cody's words took a moment to sink in. "You're a funny guy," said Nick, giving him a look.

The expression on Cody's face was strange, like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, and Nick had no idea how to answer that because his brain was still spinning. "You should try to sleep," said Cody finally.

"I just..." He blinked again. "Don't want to...leave you."

"I'm okay, Nick, just sleep." Cody's hand stroked his cheek lightly, comfortingly, and then Nick was out like a light.

* * *

A bad dream. Nick was falling, the ground rushing up to meet him, the chopper hitting the rocks above him, and it was going to hurt, and he then he hit—

Panting, he tried to drag air into his lungs. Cody was there, looking frightened out of his skull. _Hospital?_ Confusion fogged his brain.

"Nick?"

It all came into focus, then, and he remembered where he was. He laid his head back down on the pillow. "Sorry." He took a long breath and then another.

"Are you okay?" asked Cody.

A nurse entered the room. "How are you feeling, Mr. Ryder?"

"Nick," he said. "I'm fine. Just...bad dream." He felt embarrassed admitting it.

"Sorry, I panicked and hit the button," said Cody quietly.

She checked his vital signs. "Your blood pressure's a little elevated. Just try to relax. I'll be back to check on you again soon." She left with a smile.

Cody sat down carefully on the bed. He seemed wound up with nervous energy. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." He blinked. Everything was different, everything was new, and he didn't know what this new world would be like.

A gentle touch to his hand reminded him that some things stayed the same. Cody's fingers sparked across his skin, and he exhaled, feeling the last of the dream's stress leave him.

"Hey guys," said Tim. "Jamie said you hit the call button. Everything okay?" He was dressed in jeans and a tie-dye shirt with bears on the front, with a white doctor's coat over that.

"Fine," said Nick. He expected Cody to pull his hand away, but he didn't.

"Great." He grabbed the chart from the foot of the bed and sat down in the chair. "So...feeling better?"

"Yeah, sure." Nick coughed. "Just great..."

"Don't tell me. You think you're up for full-contact football, right?"

"Sure. After a nap, though." Nick grinned.

"A nap? I thought you were too extreme for naps." Tim scrutinized the chart.

"Working on a Saturday again? That's gotta be some bill."

"Just came in to say hi, really. I have a couple of other patients in this facility." He didn't look up.

"Thanks," said Cody. "We appreciate it."

"Mmm. Sure." He rehung the chart and then came up to the other side of the bed. "How are you feeling? Pain level decreasing any?"

"A little." He grimaced.

"Sore throat?"

"Yeah." He coughed again, and Tim handed him a cup of water to sip from.

"That's probably from the anesthesia, and the vomiting. It should recede soon." He paused. "I wanted to discuss a few things with you. First, the surgery went very well, and I believe that Doctor Coen accomplished all of the goals we had set. I have a very good feeling about your mobility increasing significantly once you've recuperated." He adjusted his watch. "Has anyone explained to you what happened during the procedure?"

"Coen said there was a minor complication," said Nick. He could feel Cody tense next to him.

"Well, yes, in a way. Patients react to anesthesia in many different ways, and you had a...well, it's not a common reaction, but it isn't unexpected. Your heart rate slowed for a moment or two, but it came back quickly. Doctor Coen had just finished the last of the scar tissue revision, and it was just a matter of closing the entry points. I don't think you'll have any future problems from this, but you should mention it if you ever have to be put under general anesthesia again."

Cody looked pale, and Nick squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Doc, I will."

"When are they going to transfer him to the rehab wing?" asked Cody.

"Tomorrow, most likely, as long as everything goes well." Tim put his pen back into the pocket of his coat. "Rest, drink plenty of fluids, and let the nurses know if you're hurting." He narrowed his eyes. "You will, right?"

"Sure." Nick took a sip of water and put it back on the bedside table.

"I'll make sure of it," said Cody.

Tim's gaze went from Nick to Cody and then back again. "So...you're a couple again?"

"Well, we've been discussing it—" began Cody.

"Yes," interrupted Nick. Cody looked at him, surprised, and then his eyes shone with hope.

"That's great." Tim smiled at them. "Tammi and I had a bet going, actually."

"Since when?" asked Cody.

"Since after the dinner party." He checked his watch. "Sorry, I'd love to stay and chat, but my mom's living room isn't going to paint itself."

"Sure," said Cody. "Thanks, Tim."

"Bye," said Tim, and he waved as he walked out the door.

Cody turned back to him. "Nick...I know it was kind of sudden, yesterday..."

"Yeah, it was."

"I'll understand if you...if you want to go slow, or maybe you want to wait..."

"Cody, I don't know what the hell would possess you to want to hook up with me again. Especially after what happened between us—after what I did, and especially now. But if you're crazy enough to want to try again, then I'm crazy enough to want to try again, too."

Cody smiled, and for a minute Nick glimpsed the guy he'd met in the jungle twenty years ago. "I'm crazy enough."

"Good. That's settled, then." He winced a little as his hip throbbed, a deep, hot pain. "Damn." He closed his eyes.

"I'll get someone. Just relax." The touch was gone, and Nick sighed. _Hope this all works out._

Cody seemed to want him again. Seemed to want to try again.

 _God, I hope he doesn't regret this._

* * *

Cody left just after nine, and Nick tried to sleep, but it wasn't easy. Even though they'd taken away the hip immobilizers, and they'd given him pain medication, he still ached. His back hurt, too, and the nurse adjusted the angle of the bed but it didn't help much. The catheter was uncomfortable and he kept accidentally pulling on the IV. _I hate hospitals._

He fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued with dark images. He woke several times in the night, pulled down again and again into bad dreams.

Cody, walking away from him. Cody, with Jake. Cody, alone and soulsick. Cody, hurt and crying for help.

The last one upset him so much he didn't want to fall asleep again. He lay in the dark, trying to stay awake, but it was too hard, and eventually he slipped off again.

He was alone, swimming in the night, the sky above brilliant with stars. He could see the _Riptide_ , her lights gleaming in the distance.

A shape on the fantail—Cody? He swam harder, feeling exhaustion begin to steal over him. The boat seemed closer. _I think I can make it..._

The shape grew clearer. Broad shoulders, the glint of gold; it had to be Cody. He tried calling out to him but a wave swamped him and he nearly went under. When he wiped the water out of his eyes, the boat was gone.

Alone, in the empty sea.

Panic. He was getting tired, his limbs growing heavier and heavier. "Cody!" he called out.

There was no answer.

The water seemed to be growing warmer, and he picked a direction and began to swim, using the last strength he had. He didn't get far. The water was so hot now that he felt like he was boiling, but there was nowhere to go.

He woke with a gasp. Drenched in sweat, he lay there panting, weak as a kitten. The room spun and his stomach made an abrupt flip.

It was early morning; he could see the light coming in through the window at the end of the room. He fumbled for the call button but couldn't seem to get his fingers to work.

The heat hadn't diminished. He could feel the damp sheets clinging to him. A wave of pain went through his hip, and he bit back a moan.

"Mr. Ryder? Everything okay?"

"Hot," he said weakly, letting go of the call button. His eyes fluttered shut and he concentrated on breathing. A woman's voice said something about a thermometer, and he felt it, glass and cold under his tongue. He heard another woman's voice. Sheets were pulled off and his face wiped down with something cool. It felt wonderful. The thermometer was gone, and the woman was asking him questions, and he tried to reply, but it was difficult to focus.

He drifted away into a dark fog, and woke again to Cody's troubled voice. Something about temperatures and spiking. A woman's voice said _possible infection or reaction_. He managed to get his eyes open through force of will alone, it seemed, and saw Cody standing at the foot of the bed, talking to a doctor.

"Morning," he croaked.

Cody shot to his side immediately. "Nick?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything?"

"Thirsty."

Cody gave him a drink from the cup of water. "More?"

"Yeah." He took another long sip. His throat hurt when he swallowed, and he stared up into Cody's frightened blue eyes. "Thanks."

"Anything, Nick." Cody's cool hand was against his forehead, and it felt so wonderful that he sighed in relief. "Just tell me what you need."

"I'm fine," he mumbled, his eyes closing.

"Sure." Cody didn't sound convinced. "I'll be here if you need anything."

"Okay."

The dream crept up on him. One minute he was talking to Cody, the next he was in the jungle, mud up to his knees, leeches squirming down his boots. Sweat ran into his eyes and he tried to blink away the stinging. The air was thick and humid, so hot he could barely breathe. He struggled to take a step. _Have to get away—_

Cody's voice, pulling him out of the dream. Cool, wet cloth wiping his face. He could barely get his eyes open, he was so exhausted. "Sorry," he said.

"Shh, it's okay." Cody smiled at him, letting the washcloth trail lower, wiping across his chest and neck.

"Feels good."

"Just relax, Nick, just sleep. I'm right here, you're safe."

Slowly the world melted away, and he fell into the dark quiet of a dream.


	11. Chapter 11

Voices. Nick could make out a man and a woman talking. Their words seemed to flow together, softly rising and falling, and he let himself drift on the tones.

"...as long as it doesn't spike any higher." The man's voice. Nick realized it was Cody.

"He looks so tired," said the woman. Tammi. "I don't think I've ever seen him looking so sick. Not even after the first...surgery."

Cody's reply was too quiet for him to hear.

"What did he say when you told him?" asked Tammi. "Did he seem open to it?"

"He said I was crazy."

"Well, he's right. You are." Tammi's tone was affectionate. "You both are, which is why you should be together."

"There's a lot of..."

"I know," said Tammi softly. "I know the game. You hurt each other. You ran away from each other—"

"It just—"

"I know how painful that can be. Firsthand. But you know what else I know? You love each other."

"Well, yeah—"

"That's what matters." There was a long pause. "There's a solution to the game, too."

"Which is?"

"Don't hurt each other, and don't run away."

Cody chuckled. "Good advice."

"Eric and I are still married, so it must work." Another pause. "Nick's had a really awful year." Her voice was so quiet Nick could barely hear her. "Just...be gentle, okay? I don't think he could take another...he can't..." She made a strange noise, like a tiny sob.

"C'mon, it's okay." Cody's voice was slightly muffled. "He'll be okay. I'm taking care of him now, and he's got Tim in his corner..."

"Thank you," said Tammi. "He's so stubborn...you have no idea. He just...we tried to help him as much as we could, but there's only so much you can do..." She sniffled. "I need a tissue." There was a whisper of noise from the nightstand.

"Nick?" said Cody. "Are you awake?" A warm hand pressed against his forehead.

"Yeah," he croaked, opening his eyes to see Cody studying him intently.

"Thirsty?"

Before Nick could even answer, Cody gave him a sip of water. He was thirstier than he thought, and he drank half the cup before settling his head back against the pillow.

"Hi, Nick," said Tammi, who had come around the other side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days," he admitted.

Her hand squeezed his. "I know, honey, but it'll get better. Tim says that it was a minor infection, and you'll be transferred to the rehab wing very soon."

"Okay." Exhaustion seemed to press him into the bed. Tammi and Cody were still talking, their voices murmuring steadily to each other, and he tried to pay attention but it was difficult, especially with Cody lightly caressing the back of his hand. He exhaled and let the sound wash over him.

 _Cody loves me._ The thought made him feel so many things at once; shock, awe, a burst of hope, a touch of fear. _What happens after?_ He felt his stomach flip. _What if the recovery doesn't go so well? What happens when he realizes that I can't do the things we used to do?_ Cody'd been patient and caring for days, but there had to be a limit to it. _He can't spend the rest of his life taking care of a cripple._ Just the very thought made him cringe.

"Hey, what's wrong? Nick?"

Nick opened his eyes to find Cody looking down at him in dismay. He looked to the other side of the bed, which was empty.

"Tammi left. It's just us. What's wrong?" Cody leaned in closer.

"This is a bad idea," Nick choked out. "This—us—"

Cody looked frightened. "Nick..."

"You can't..." He struggled to take in a breath. "Cody, you can't do this. You'll...you'll regret it."

A look of frustration passed over his face. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but I can make a guess. You think I'm going to wake up a month from now and be...unhappy with what I've chosen. You think I'm going to suddenly change my mind."

"Yeah." He blinked heavily.

"The past three weeks have been stressful," said Cody slowly and carefully, "but they've also been some of the best days I've had in a very long time. And if they're that good, then I can only imagine what it'll be like once you begin to recuperate. But even if you never get any better at all, it's still better than I've hoped for in a long, long time." His eyes were both intense and earnest.

"Cody..." He coughed and swallowed, grimacing. "Nobody'll blame you if..."

" _Stop it._ " Cody looked angry now. "I'm with you because I want to be with you more than anything else. That's it. I'm not leaving."

"Just..."

"I know." The look on his face softened. "Nick, face it. You're stuck with me."

Nick couldn't help but smile at that. "That goes both ways."

"I love you." Cody's eyes were bright. "Nothing else matters."

"Love you too." Nick rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Damn. Can't believe how tired I am."

"It's pretty believable, considering what you've been through in the last few weeks." Cody's hand traced a long, light pattern on his arm. "Once you've been fever-free for twenty-four hours, they'll be able to transfer you."

"Mmm." He raised his hand higher to scratch his scalp, but the IV line got caught. "Damn."

"Let me help." Cody helped maneuver the plastic line.

"Thanks." Nick ran a hand through his hair and yawned. "How's Michele holding up?"

Cody looked a little guilty. "Okay, so far. She was scared witless to do the open house, but she came through just fine."

"Yeah? Did it sell?"

"No."

"That's too bad."

"The guy from the first open house left a message, though. He's very interested, especially now that it's changed price."

"That could be a good thing."

"Well, yes, unless he's going to be a shark and try to cut the price further." Cody had a dark look on his face. "The Paulsens are already going through enough grief. They shouldn't have to get taken advantage of, too."

"They can refuse, right?"

"They're backed in a corner right now." Cody exhaled. "I think they might take it, just to get it out of the way. Clyde said as much to me on the phone."

"Mmm." It was too exhausting to keep his eyes open. He tried to get his left arm back under the blankets but it wasn't cooperating.

"Here." Cody's hands were on him, pulling up the covers, a light kiss to his forehead sending him off to sleep.

\------------

As Nick had expected, the transfer to the rehab wing was far from smooth. A nurse took out the IV line and the catheter, which was a relief, and then he waited for four hours before the physical therapist showed up to help set up a pair of crutches for him. The paperwork was hopelessly snarled, and it took another hour to sort it out. Then there was a wait for a wheelchair.

There was nothing Nick could do about it, of course, so he tried to draw from his well of patience. Cody wasn't helping, though. He grew more and more agitated, and kept leaving the room to try to find help.

Worse still was the fact that it was Monday. Nick felt the guilt growing as he watched Cody spend his whole day there, instead of taking care of his business.

Nick was finally taken to his new room at eight o'clock. It was too late for dinner, though the attendant thought he might be able to wrangle up a tray for him.

"No, thanks," said Nick, trying to get comfortable.

Cody looked at him. "What? Nick, you need something to eat."

"I'm fine." Nick yawned. The attendant shifted the angle of the bed and then left.

"You've got to eat," insisted Cody.

"Tomorrow." He was a little hungry, but he was also exhausted from the transfer, and missing out on the horrible food they served there was probably a blessing. "Thanks, man. You should go home, though."

"I'll stay. For a little while."

"Visiting hours are over." Nick yawned again.

"I don't care." Cody sat down on the edge of his bed. "Is the paperwork always like this? And the delays?"

"Usually." Nick let his eyelids fall closed. "Sometimes worse. You should have seen the mess the first time around. Between the insurance company and the VA..."

"I can't figure out how anything even gets done," grumbled Cody.

"Yeah, it's a mystery." Nick felt Cody's fingertips on his wrist, lightly stroking. "Look, I'm gonna be asleep in about two minutes..."

"I'll just stay here until you do, then."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Nick."

"Night." Nick let himself drift off.

* * *

Nick had trouble sleeping. He woke in the middle of the night in pain, but the attendant on duty couldn't find the order for his pain medication, and it took an hour and a half before he could get his pills.

Unsettling dreams buzzed in his head. He finally fell asleep just before dawn, and when he woke the next time, Cody was there, paging through a real estate listing book.

"Good morning," said Cody, putting the book aside and sitting down on the bed next to Nick.

"Mm. Morning." Nick yawned and rubbed his eyes. "My crutches around?"

"Right here. What do you need?"

"Gotta hit the head." He flexed his hands, happy that the IV line was gone. Cody helped him up, and then over to the bathroom.

Once he was back in bed, an orderly showed up with a breakfast tray for him and his roommate. He hadn't noticed him last night, but today the curtains were drawn back, and Nick gave him a friendly nod, which wasn't returned. The kid was in his early twenties.

 _The cold and unfriendly type. At least I'll have some peace and quiet._ "So what's on the agenda for today?" asked Nick, turning back to Cody.

Cody raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it obvious?"

"A new wild goose chase?" He tasted the eggs. Powdered. The juice was awful and the toast was barely toasted, and cold. He sighed and scraped a little of the jam across the bread, hoping it would make it edible.

"No, Nick," said Cody patiently. "I'm staying here today."

Nick looked at him. "What, the whole day?"

"Yes." Cody gave him a stubborn look.

"Cody..." began Nick, but Cody's look turned more stubborn, and he sighed and gave up, surrendering to the powdered eggs. He was hungry, which did help, and in the end he managed to eat nearly three-quarters of what was on his plate, which he viewed as a victory.

There was a nap, and another trip to the bathroom, and then shortly before lunchtime a petite girl with strawberry blond hair came in, her attention wholly devoted to the paperwork in her hands.

"Mr. Ryder?" she said, still staring at her papers.

"Nick," he answered.

"Hi," said Cody, giving her one of his beautiful smiles. "I'm Cody Allen." She looked up and stopped in her tracks, her mouth slightly open.

"Hello," she said, flushing lightly. "Um. My name's Shannon. I'm your...I mean, Mr. Allen's physical therapist." She looked down at the paperwork again. "No, I mean, Mr. _Ryder's_ therapist."

"Nick. The name's Nick." Nick gave her a grin.

"Nick. Okay." She seemed to have recovered. "Today I'm going to keep it very simple. We'll go over using crutches, though you probably don't need it, and we'll check your range of motion. Mr. Allen—"

"Cody, please."

"Cody, if you could just have a seat in the lounge, I'll call you back when we're finished." She smiled at him. He looked like he was going to argue with her, but Nick gave him his own look, and Cody frowned and left.

Shannon was professional and efficient, and wasn't annoyingly cheerful, which Nick liked. She kept her word about keeping it simple, and after she helped him back in bed she scribbled out a few notes. "I'm going to speak with Doctor Coen today, and put together your rehab plan," she said. "Do you have any questions?"

"No." He shifted on the bed, trying to get more comfortable.

"Okay, then. Tomorrow we'll discuss the plan, and how soon you can get out of here. I'll go get your friend." She patted him on the knee and left.

Cody came in, looking only a little annoyed at having been left out. He sat down in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankle. "So, what did the lovely Shannon have to say?"

"Not much." Nick winced as the throbbing in his hip grew stronger. "She's going to come by tomorrow and tell me how long the sentence will be."

Cody smirked. "C'mon, it's not that bad. You get to stay in bed, people bring you your meals..."

"You forget what PT is like?" asked Nick, giving him a look. "It sucks."

"Well, yeah." Cody scratched his neck. "Michele said to say hi, by the way. And she hopes you recover quickly."

"Me too." He winced again.

"When was the last time you had painkillers?" asked Cody, sitting up straight.

"Don't remember. During the night sometime, I think."

Cody shot out of his chair and into the hallway.

Nick tried to relax, concentrate on breathing in and out, put together Mimi's carburetor in his head. None of it worked. The pain grew more intense. Cody returned with a harried nurse bearing a little plastic cup, and Nick swallowed the pills down with a little water. The nurse rushed away, not even bothering to stay and make sure he'd taken them. Not that there was any chance he wouldn't.

"Nick?" asked Cody, looking at him intently.

"I'm fine."

"You'll feel better soon." Cody held his hand tightly. "Next time, you need to say something sooner."

"I'll try." Nick exhaled. "This really what you want to do with your time? Chase down nurses? Sit next to a bed all day? Watch somebody sleep?"

"You're not going to scare me away," said Cody determinedly. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

"I was afraid of that." Nick closed his eyes and felt the painkillers slowly coming in like the tide.

* * *

Cody and Tim both showed up for Shannon's visit the next day, and they all stood around Nick's bed and listened to her outline the plan she'd developed. Cody even took notes, his reading glasses making him look distinguished.

It sounded to Nick like this set of therapy was less intensive than the first round had been. Then again, his surgery wasn't as drastic, and he didn't have as many injuries this time around. Plus, as both Shannon and Tim pointed out, he wasn't in top form and needed some time to build up strength and muscle tone.

It frustrated him to listen to everyone discussing him and what he needed to do and how weak he was, but he just took a few calming breaths and let his temper unknot itself. Cody stayed close, nearly hovering over the bed, and Nick tried not to let that frustrate him, too. _He's just worried._ His throat still hurt, and he took a couple of sips of water.

Shannon and Tim were debating the fine points of one particular exercise, with Cody looking on attentively. He took another sip of water and then put the cup down. Shifting, he grimaced as his hip throbbed. Cody put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Tim looked in his direction. "Shannon's going to keep you busy."

"Absolutely. Nick and I are going to work very hard." She smiled at him.

"Yeah, sure," said Nick. "Anything to get out of here."

She ignored his remark. "I'll stop by this afternoon for that light session we talked about. And then tomorrow I'll be back in the morning." She smoothed over her paperwork and gave them all a smile. "Thanks for your time. It was nice to meet you, Doctor Lawrence."

"Likewise." Tim smiled and watched her leave. The kid in the next bed did, too. She did have a nice body, though she was pretty short.

"I think somebody else wouldn't mind a bit of physical therapy," said Cody in a low voice. Tim blushed and they both cracked up.

Cody's hand was still on his shoulder, warm and comforting. "Where are you guys headed today?" asked Nick.

Cody made an exasperated noise. "I'm staying here."

"I have a couple of house calls," said Tim, checking his watch. "Tammi and Eric are coming over for dinner after that."

"Sounds great. What are you making?"

"Burgers. On the grill, actually." Tim's pager went off and he looked at it, frowning. "I've really got to answer this. See you guys later."

"Bye," called out Cody. He turned back to Nick after Tim had left. "I'm not leaving."

"Yeah, I noticed that." Nick sighed. "I mean, I'm glad you're here, but you—"

"I'm staying."

"Okay." Nick held up his hands in surrender. "Fine."

The day passed by slowly. Shannon brought a wheelchair and took him to his first therapy session, not-so-subtly dissuading Cody from tagging along. Nick was relieved.

It wasn't as grueling as he'd feared, but he knew that was only because it was the first session. It still wore him out, and by the time he was back in bed he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

The next morning, Cody was there before he woke up again, and after breakfast Shannon showed up and took him to another session. This time it was in the pool. The exercises were similar to what he'd done in the past, but that didn't make them any easier.

He almost didn't wake up in time for lunch.

In the afternoon, Cody hovered, full of nervous energy, constantly adjusting the covers or checking his watch or bothering nurses and orderlies about medication and lighting and room temperature.

Finally, after dinner, Nick couldn't take it any longer. "Cody, listen..."

"What do you need?" Cody was next to him in a flash, hand on his arm.

"You gotta go home, man." Nick gave him a pleading look. "You can't hang out here all day, every day."

"I want to help." Cody's tone was both pleading and stubborn.

"I know," soothed Nick. "But be serious. I'm in good hands here, okay? And you can't keep shuffling everything off onto Michele. It's not fair."

"Nick..."

"C'mon, Cody." He sighed. "You're already going nuts just sitting here. I'm gonna be here another two weeks, maybe three, and you'll be stark raving mad by the end of it."

"I can't, Nick. I can't just leave you here."

"Fine, then. Come out after dinner, when you're done with what you need to do, and sit for a couple hours. Just...you can't keep spending every waking hour here. You'll make me crazy. Along with everyone else who works here."

"I don't know..."

"Think about your business. Don't hamstring yourself in the first quarter."

"I don't care—"

"You _do_ care and you _should_. I'll be okay, Cody, really."

Cody still looked skeptical. "This place makes me nervous. Look how long it took for them to get you painkillers."

"They're understaffed. They always are. It's just how it is." Nick tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but there didn't seem to be any. He took a few calming breaths. "I'm fine."

Cody came in closer, his hand gently stroking Nick's neck, and then his hair. "I know. I'll...I'll try to work tomorrow."

"Good." Nick closed his eyes.

"No guarantees."

Nick snorted. "Didn't expect any."

* * *

The next day Nick woke up alone. Even though he was relieved that Cody wasn't there, he still missed him, and it was a bit of a struggle getting to the bathroom without him. He hated crutches. They were uncomfortable and awkward.

He had an even bigger struggle trying to get back in bed, but it was worth it knowing that Cody was working.

His medications were late, and breakfast was even worse than usual. He slept most of the morning away, and then Shannon put him through his paces in the pool, and he came back and spent the first part of the afternoon dreaming about being on a boat. Tammi stopped by and they talked for a couple hours, and then she left so she could meet Eric at the movie theater for their usual date night.

An orderly brought his dinner, and Cody showed up at the same time. _So much for coming by after dinner. Then again, I'm surprised he lasted this long._ "Hey."

"What's that supposed to be?" asked Cody, staring at the tray.

"Dinner. Turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes." Nick managed to get through half of it before giving up.

"You need to eat more than that," said Cody. "You need to put on some weight."

"Can't." Nick pushed the tray table away from himself. "It's awful."

"It can't be any worse than what we ate in 'Nam."

"I'd rather have C-rats," declared Nick.

"That's ludicrous." Cody grabbed his fork and took an experimental mouthful. For a second he sat there, eyes narrowed, and then he looked horrified. He swallowed it down and then grabbed Nick's cup of water and drank it all.

"Told you." Nick eased back into the bed and put his head on the pillow. "So how was work today?"

Cody still looked like something had died in his mouth. "Uh. Okay, I guess. I mostly played catch-up."

"I'll bet. Any new leads?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to finish up the purchases we're putting through. Oh, and the Paulsens did get an offer."

"A good offer?"

"Just slightly below what they'd asked for at the last open house. Not the best outcome, but far from the worst. I just called them, actually. They're relieved that it sold. Clyde's going to fly in from Berlin for the closing."

"That's good."

"It is. It means no open house tomorrow."

"Oh."

"I have a lot to do, though. Michele's swamped, and I really need to get some listings generated and do some ad work." There was a flash of guilt on his face.

"Good idea."

"I'll be right back." Cody got up and left, coming back with a can of soda, which he drank quickly. "Is all the food that bad?"

"Some of it's worse."

"Wow." Cody sat down in the chair and threw the empty can into the trash. "You were right. I'd rather have C-rats."

"Yeah. But it's only two more weeks." _I can get through anything for two weeks._

Cody yawned and scratched his neck, watching the kid in the next bed, who was drawing something in his sketchpad.

"Oh, hey, Tammi stopped by," said Nick. "She wants you to call her. She's got a few places picked out for the yoga studio."

"Great. I'll call her tomorrow." He stared out into space for a moment, and then his gaze focused on Nick, his eyes full of light and hope. _Love you so much._

 _Love you too._ Nick felt the connection between them, so new yet so old, and couldn't help but smile.

* * *

It wasn't Shannon who came to collect Nick for his physical therapy on Saturday afternoon; instead it was a guy who introduced himself as Max. Max was a little on the short side, broad and stocky, and he took Nick down to the therapy wing in record time.

The first set of exercises was familiar, though Max made him keep them up longer than expected. Then again, maybe it wasn't so unexpected; physical therapy tended to ramp up as it progressed. The next sets were intense, and Nick found himself actually looking forward to the pool work.

Except the pool work was even more wearying. Max pushed him hard, asking him for more sets than Shannon had. Nick gritted his teeth and tried to keep up as best as he could, but eventually he had to call for a stop. Max tried to cajole him into more, but Nick could barely catch his breath, and Max gave up with a frown. After a small set of cooling down exercises, he took him back to his room and helped him into bed.

Nick was so tired he fell asleep immediately. An orderly woke him for dinner, but he only took a couple of bites before pushing the tray table away and falling asleep again, his hip aching fiercely.

Cody whispered to him. Nick tried to ignore it, but it only got louder. "Huh?"

"Nick, are you all right?" Cody was holding his shoulders as if he wanted to shake him.

"Sure. Tired."

"Why are you so tired? What's wrong?"

"PT was rough." He could barely keep his eyes open.

"I'll be right back."

"Mmmh. Sure." He sank back into dreams again, dark shapes twisting and forming around him. More voices, insistent, and then Cody called his name loudly, and Nick blinked awake again, wincing at the blinding pain in his hip.

"Nick, I talked to..." Cody's words bled away as Nick felt his eyelids droop shut. More talking, something about exercises and exhaustion, and then he felt a sharp pinch in his arm. Within moments the pain was gone and he was floating off into sleep.

* * *

Blurry shapes. Rustling pages. A cough. Nick gradually surfaced from the dark pit he'd been curled up inside.

After a few tries, he got his eyes open. Cody was in the chair next to him, wearing rumpled clothes, thumbing listlessly through another real estate listing book. Nick reached out for the cup of water on the tray table and took a sip, and Cody was on the bed in a flash, reaching for his other hand. "Nick? How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Fine," he said, yawning. "Little sore." He ached all over, especially his hip, which burned.

"I'll get a nurse to bring your next set of meds." Cody stroked his hand lightly.

He blinked and blinked again, putting the water back down on the tray table. "Damn. Need to..."

"Take it slow." Cody was careful, helping him to the bathroom and back, and Nick hissed as his muscles protested. He got back in the bed and lay there, feeling so exhausted that he didn't think he could get up again even if he was on fire. Cody arranged the blankets, wrapping him back up in warmth, and he was vaguely aware of having to swallow pills, and then he was out like a light.

He dreamt of Suresh Mehti. Gunfire. Flames. He woke up, shuddering, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Cody's arms wrapped around him, and he cried into his shoulder as Cody murmured comforting things in his ear. He shuddered weakly, the sound of gunshots still echoing in his head. "It's okay," soothed Cody. "It's okay. I've got you."

The feelings faded, and Nick exhaled, letting Cody settle him back into the bed. "Sorry." He wiped his eyes.

"It's okay." Cody eyed him for a moment. "Do you want to...talk about it?"

Nick shook his head.

A flash of hurt went through Cody's eyes. "Oh. Okay."

"I'm sorry." Nick swallowed. "It's just...I can't." He touched Cody's hand. "I mean, it's just...it was too raw." And he didn't want to bring up something so painful for Cody.

Cody nodded stiffly, but he didn't pull his hand away. An awkward moment passed, and finally he shifted a little in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "I talked to Tammi. She found two possible locations for her yoga studio."

"Good." Nick rubbed his eyes and stretched cautiously. His muscles were still a little achy, but not as bad as they'd been.

"I talked her into renting, though. I think that buying a commercial property is probably not the right course for her at this time."

"Probably."

Cody was quiet for a long moment, simply sitting still and holding his hand. His expression was hard to read. He exhaled. "Two of my clients won't return my calls."

 _Derek and his big mouth._ He frowned. "But you were living with Jake before..."

"We were very low-key." Cody stared at the other bed, where the kid was pretending to sleep. "That's why we built the privacy fence. We were pretty careful about everything. Sometimes we even hit on women when we went out clubbing. That's why..." He flushed. "That's why the Bar Marmont thing was such a big deal. Jake got so drunk he was practically outing us to all of our friends, and most of them didn't know."

"Bar Marmont..." Nick thought back and remembered a story of Derek's, how Jake was carrying on about how much he loved Cody.

"Some of my clients don't care, but some do." Cody still had his poker face on, but Nick could see it in his eyes. He was scared.

"Just keep going forward," said Nick. "You've got some good sales. You're a great salesman."

"Salesman." Cody snorted. "I always hated that word. But now that's what I am."

"Cody, we're never what we think we're going to be. Otherwise everybody'd be a fireman or a ballerina, and nothing would ever get sold."

Cody gave him a small smile, his moustache quirking up at the corners. "True."

Suddenly Nick wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips, to steal his breath away and make him moan. It was electrifying. Cody's eyebrows rose, as if he knew exactly what Nick was thinking. _Soon,_ he promised with his eyes.

They sat in pleasant silence for a while, Nick reading the sports page while Cody flipped through yet another real estate listing book. After dinner, Cody looked at his watch and then yawned, stretching in his chair. "I'm beat," he said, looking a little guilty.

"So go home." Nick folded the paper up neatly. Cody hesitated, clearly wanting to argue. "I mean it. You probably stayed here all night, and you look tired. Go home and get some sleep."

"Okay," said Cody reluctantly. "If you need anything, just call, okay? Anything. I mean it."

"Sure." Nick yawned. "Go on, go home."

He thought he'd fall asleep after Cody left, but it was like he'd taken the sun with him. The room seemed dark and oppressive, and he couldn't get comfortable. The kid next to him was really asleep now, snoring lightly, and Nick stared at the ceiling and thought of creative ways to rough up Derek.

His own sleep was troubled. Half a dozen times he woke up frightened, hearing gunshots or mortar fire or the familiar _whup-whup-whup_ of a Huey.

Just before dawn he dreamed of the warehouse again. Dreamed of Suresh, of bullets, of yelling and heat and blood. He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

It took a long time for his heartbeat to slow down.

Breakfast was marginally better than usual; the toast was actually warm. He didn't have much of an appetite, but he tried anyway. Shannon came in bright and early, apologetic as she wheeled him to the pool area. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, on Saturday. Think I slept like the dead."

"I feel horrible about that," she said apologetically. "Max turned to the wrong Saturday in the plan. I promise we'll go slow today."

"Hey, it happens." Nick shifted his foot slightly and winced.

"He's never done it before, but we've all been so overworked lately..."

"That's the motto here, isn't it? Overworked and underpaid."

"I try not to complain." She compressed her lips into a tight line, looking unhappy.

The workout was definitely lighter than it had been, but it was still grueling. By the end, Nick was sweaty and exhausted. When Shannon brought him back to the room, an attendant helped him shower and shave, and then he fell into bed, worn out but happy to be clean and clean-shaven. The kid in the next bed was gone, the sheets rumpled.

He didn't come back for lunch, and Nick wondered if he'd been discharged. Probably not, because his sketchpad was still there. Nick took a long drink of water and leaned back into the bed, shifting until his hip hurt less. A nurse stopped by with his cup of pills, and he took them.

He slept fitfully during the afternoon. More dreams about the warehouse, about Suresh, about Murray and gunfire and the heat.

"Nick?"

Nick came awake, blinking, his heart racing. Suresh's face faded. "Huh?"

Tim stood there, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream." He licked dry lips and took a calming breath. "So what's up?"

"I was in the neighborhood, checking on one of my other patients, and I thought I'd stop by and check on you." Tim sat down in the chair. "Any complaints? Other than the food."

Nick shook his head. "Just wondering when I can get out of here."

"You'll be here at least another two weeks."

"Two weeks? I thought..."

"You've had a bumpier road than you should have," said Tim gently. "You just need a little extra time."

"Wish it could be time spent somewhere else." Nick frowned.

Tim chuckled. "I'm sure." He sat down, looking completely at ease. "So you're having bad dreams?"

"Sometimes," said Nick reluctantly.

"I'm no psychologist, but I'm a good listener."

Normally Nick would have laughed it off, but Suresh's eyes were still fresh in his mind, haunting him. "I don't know. I just..."

Tim didn't say anything, just sat there quietly.

"Look, I...I don't know. I mean...did Cody ever tell you about the...Mehti case?" Just saying the name made his stomach clench.

"He has mentioned it before," said Tim.

The old Nick would never have told this story to a soul; it wasn't entirely his, after all. It was Cody's and Murray's. He hesitated.

"Nick, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine," Tim said evenly. "If you do tell me, I can promise you that I'll keep it completely confidential."

"Yeah." Nick took another sip of water and thought about it. Tim seemed genuinely interested, and it weighed heavy on his heart. _He's a doctor. He's used to keeping confidences. And Cody’s already told him about it, so he must trust him._ He took a deep breath. "About five years ago, my dad died," he began. "He was in the hospital for three months. Heart trouble, and...other problems. He smoked two packs a day starting when he was twelve, so it wasn't a surprise." He exhaled. "At the time, Cody and I'd been together—really together—for five years and change. And we'd had the detective agency for seven years. Murray had just..." He shivered.

"It's okay, take your time."

"Murray was engaged, and his girl Gloria was pretty much against him being in the agency. Said it was too dangerous. Cody and I were kind of feeling the same way, especially after a couple really close calls. But it was still paying the bills, and we just didn't know what else we could do. Anyway, I got the call that my dad was in the hospital, and I left without telling anyone where I was going. Went up to King and found him swearing at his doctor." Nick laughed without humor. "He wasn't nice, my old man."

"He told you he was dying?"

"I knew just by looking at him. But he was the most stubborn guy I've ever met. He just wouldn't let go. He held on, miserable, for three months." Nick shook his head. "He didn't have anyone else. He looked awful, and he wanted me to promise..." His breath caught for a moment. "He wanted me to promise to stay with him. Help him."

"Did you?"

"Hell no. After what that bastard did to my mother, there was no way I was promising him anything. I left. Drove up and down the PCH a few times to clear my head. That didn't work. By the time I got home, Cody was frantic. They were about to call the highway patrol."

"I'll bet."

"I told myself I wasn't going back, but I couldn't stop thinking about him, alone in the hospital, scared, dying. I checked with the staff, and he'd had no visitors at all. Even his bastard friends wouldn't come out to say goodbye."

Tim nodded, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"He popped up in my head all the time. And the more I thought about him, the more I knew I couldn't tell Cody."

"You really thought you couldn't?"

"Cody, he just wants to help. And I didn't want help. I didn't want him around my dad. My dad was an asshole on the best of days, right? I didn't want him yelling at Cody or giving him trouble."

"You probably should have given Cody the choice," said Tim mildly.

"Yeah, well, maybe I know that now, but at the time, all I could see is my dad calling him names. Hurting him. And Cody would've put up with it, too, would've smiled at him and still helped, and I..." He grimaced and took a sip of water. "Just thinking about it made my blood boil. It was hard enough with just me dealing with him. So I didn't tell Cody, and I kept going up there whenever I felt guilty, which was...pretty much all the time."

"You can't blame Cody for feeling abandoned."

"Nope. I know I was an asshole, all right? But I didn't think I had any other choice." Nick exhaled. "Anyway, Murray'd been making friends here and there that year, a few programmers, a few hackers, and he found out one of the hackers lived right there in King Harbor, practically down the street. Murray arranged to meet up with him, and it turned out he was thirteen. He had some crazy wild hacker nickname—can't remember it—but his real name was Suresh. At first Murray was really surprised by how young he was, but they really hit it off. Suresh was smart and knew a ton about computers and they did a few projects together. I think Murray saw a lot of himself in Suresh. They were even talking about starting a side business together.

"So about a month after my old man called me, we heard from Suresh's mom, Haritha. She called in a panic, saying that Suresh was kidnapped. At first we tried to get her to calm down, call the police, the usual. But it turns out that the guys who took him were from some group of crazies, and they said if the police got involved they'd…they'd kill Suresh on the spot. Cody thought they were holding him for ransom, but then Murray got a message on his computer from Suresh, and he realized that they were using Suresh to get into government computers. Big stuff, like the FBI."

Tim whistled. "Heavy."

"Yeah. Later we found out they were trying to get one of their own released from a maximum security prison. At the time, though, all we wanted was Suresh. And he sent Murray a few more messages over an hour or two, telling him where he was being kept, stuff like that. In the last message he sounded really scared. He thought they were nearly done with him. He was trying to stall, but he didn't have much time left.

"So we did what we always did. We flew by the seat of our pants. Went into the situation totally half-cocked. We figured we'd make a distraction and then go in and nab Suresh and be home in time for dinner."

Tim stayed quiet, watching him with sympathy.

"I went in and set up the distraction. Couple grenades, a few flares. Made 'em think there were more of us. Murray and Cody snuck around the back and got in. It was a big warehouse, middle of August, and it had to be over a hundred degrees inside. Fucking horrible.

"Right away I knew we were in over our heads. These guys were trained. They weren't some local thug's bodyguards. They were smart and kept their cool. We ended up getting pinned down in the middle of the warehouse. Pinned down, and split up. The worst situation possible." Nick took a steadying breath. "Cody was shooting at anything that moved, and his cover was terrible. Murray was hunkered down behind some barrels.

"It was already pretty dim in there, and it was hot, and guns were going off. Both of my guns were out, and I only had ammo for one of them, so I dropped the other and went for a fresh clip. I shouted to Murray to cover Cody because I knew he'd be out soon, too. I heard Cody yell for help."

"Murray hadn't fired a gun since...well, since we'd been on another case some years before, and he'd had to shoot someone in self-defense. He hadn't picked up a gun since." Nick closed his eyes, feeling the guilt rise within him. "Cody yelled for help again. I heard Murray's gun go off a few times. I got the clip in my gun and rolled over to where Murray was.

"I knew something was wrong. Really wrong. Murray was standing there, in full view, and the gun fell out of his hand and hit the floor. He was as white as a ghost." Nick took a shaky breath. "Turns out Suresh had gotten away from his guards and was running toward Cody, only Murray didn't recognize him and...he shot him." He scrubbed at his eyes. "He shot him, and he died there, on the floor of that godforsaken warehouse."

Tim squeezed his shoulder and offered him a tissue. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. So were we." He wiped his eyes. "We were all sorry. That didn't help. Suresh was still dead. Haritha and her husband moved back to India. Murray took it the hardest. One morning Cody and I woke up to find that he was half moved out. We tried to talk him out of it..."

"He left?"

"He went to live with Gloria. They got married soon after. Or so I heard." Nick wiped his eyes. "My dad was getting worse, and I kept going up there to see him. I didn't feel so guilty when I was with him, you know?" He coughed and took another sip of water. "But Jake was around, more and more, and I got jealous. I couldn't deal with it. It was everything, all piled up on top of all of us. I kept calling Murray, and Gloria finally told me she was going to call the police if I didn't stop harassing them. That's what she called it. Harassment."

"Do you think it was her, or Murray, who didn't want you to talk to him?"

"Maybe it was her. I don't know. All I know is I haven't spoken to him in years. I started getting a Christmas card a couple years ago, and I tried calling again, but there was a weird message and then it hung up." He exhaled heavily. "Cody took it bad, but I didn't really know it at first. He...he kept clamming up whenever I said anything about it. I finally just stopped talking."

There was a long silence. Tim sat there, hand on his shoulder, while Nick thought about the whole mess, remembering Suresh's face in death, the shock and fright frozen there.

"You've been holding onto this for a while," said Tim quietly. "But you know, of course, that it really isn't your fault. It's the fault of those who kidnapped Suresh."

"Yeah." Nick wiped his eyes again. "I know. I always feel guilty because it's partly my fault that Murray had the gun and I told him to cover Cody. But I've tried to make my peace with it. Cody, though..."

"Cody feels guilty because Murray thought he was protecting him." Tim sighed and sat back in his chair. "What an awful situation."

"It was." Nick took a sip of water.

"It's surprising that it didn't happen sooner, though, considering your line of work."

"True."

"You still dream about Suresh?"

Nick hesitated. "No...not for a while. Not until this...thing with Cody happened." He shivered.

"Do you think you're dreaming of Suresh because seeing Cody has brought back the memories?

He thought for a moment. "I don't know. I think..." He rubbed his eyes. "I think it's been eating at Cody for a long time."

"Yes," said Tim simply.

"Thanks for listening." Nick shifted on the bed, and winced at the spike of pain that accompanied it. "Damn."

Tim got up and checked his chart. "Looks like you're overdue for your pain meds. I'll be right back."

His hip throbbed, hot and sharp, and he breathed slowly, in and out. _Bend, don't break._ Suresh. The warehouse. Murray's face, his eyes broken inside. Cody, down on the floor, face blank with denial. The suffocating air...gunshots...sirens...

He felt sick. It was too much, too heavy. He tried to control his breathing. _In. Out. Bend. Don't break._

Tim reappeared, plastic cup of pills in hand. Nick took the pills gratefully, washing them down with the last of the water.

"So," said Tim. "How about a haircut?"

* * *

Back in bed, Nick felt lighter, and not just because of the haircut. The dream images had faded, and Tim had left. The pain in his hip was at low ebb.

The kid was back in bed, snoring soundly. Whatever he'd gone through had really knocked him out; he hadn't even woken up when Tim'd accidentally dropped the chart. Nick yawned. It was nearly dinnertime.

"Hey, Nick," said Cody. He was dressed in a pale blue suit with a blue silk tie, carrying a paper bag in his right hand. He blinked as he approached Nick's bed. "You got a haircut," he said, suddenly grinning.

"Great, huh? The VA special." Nick grinned in return.

"Looks good."

"Looks grey."

"That, too." Cody sat down on the bed, still staring at his hair.

"It was driving me crazy. I—"

All rational thought ceased as Cody leaned forward and kissed him, his lips soft and sweet and just as he remembered. A hot throb of electricity traveled to his cock, and he groaned as Cody threaded his fingers through his hair, bringing him closer, searing him with the intensity of the kiss.

"Cody," breathed Nick after they broke apart.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself." Cody smiled and touched his face, lightly stroking his cheek.

His thigh felt way too warm. "What...Cody, what's in the bag?"

"Oh, damn. Soup." Cody hastily picked up the bag, pulling out napkins and sopping up the spilled soup on his leg. "Grasch's chicken dumpling."

The scent reached his nose, and he nearly started drooling. "You brought me dinner?"

"Well, yeah. I can't let you keep eating whatever they call this stuff. You should have at least one good meal a day. There was bread, too..." He peeked in the bag. "Uh, it's a little soggy now."

"I don't care," declared Nick. His stomach growled.

Cody looked amused. "Okay, hold on, I'll get this unpacked." He tore open the side of the bag and gingerly started pulling things out.

The soup was still hot. The bread was delicious. Nick ate it all and then lay back in bed, completely contented, as Cody stroked his arm.

"Good?"

Nick opened one eye. "What do you think?"

"Judging from the speed with which you ate it, I'd say it was pretty damned good. Or you were pretty hungry."

"Little of both." He closed his eyes and sighed. "How was your day?"

"Crazy. Another client won't return my calls." He hesitated. "But this afternoon, I got a call from Brian Clark."

"Who?"

"Brian Clark. He's a producer, looking for a second home in Redondo Beach. King Harbor, if possible."

"Never heard of him."

"Well, he's pretty well-known in TV. And he's openly out."

Nick opened his eyes. "You think..."

"I think he found me on purpose. He mentioned that his assistant might be buying a home soon as well, along with Carlos Morales."

"Carlos..."

"He's a co-star in one of Clark's more popular series. He's out, too."

"Looks like you've found a niche business."

"Maybe."

"How do you think he heard about you?"

Cody shrugged. "Someone told someone else, who told someone else, and so on."

"Derek being the first someone."

"I know." Cody frowned.

"What about your other friends? They just as charming?"

"I don't...I don't know that I have a lot of friends." He looked introspective. "I have a lot of acquaintances, people I hang out with at clubs, people I see at parties, people I network with..."

"Cody," said Nick, looking him in the eye. "I think my clubbing days are over. I'm not much into tennis, and I don't like parties, except maybe Tammi and Eric's."

"When are you going to get it?" asked Cody tenderly. "None of that really matters. I want to be with someone who loves me."

"That I can do," said Nick, grinning.

"Good." Cody leaned forward and kissed him gently, sweetly, his hand wrapped around Nick's wrist, warm and comforting. Nick kissed him back, letting his lips say everything he could promise him.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the week passed by quickly. Nick's physical therapy was getting more intense, and he spent the afternoons napping. Tim stopped by twice and Coen checked in as well.

Every evening Cody would show up just before dinner with something from Grasch's. Soup, or a rice bowl, along with something sweet like strawberries or kiwi. Nick was more than grateful. The rehab wing was dark and dingy, but Cody always made it seem sunny and warm.

Cody insisted on spending most of Friday and Saturday there, and Nick didn't even try to argue him out of it. With no open house to attend, and business at a low ebb, Cody had the time. Which worried Nick a little, but he was too glad that Cody was there to try to force him to stay away.

On Sunday Cody was late. Nick kept checking the clock, but breakfast passed, and lunch, too. The kid—his name was Andrew—was visited by an elderly woman wearing gloves and pearls. She sat next to his bed and engaged him in stilted conversation and left after precisely one hour had passed.

Cody finally came in, now-familiar paper bag in tow, and Nick smiled at the sight. "Thought you'd never get here."

"What happened to wanting me to stay home and work?" said Cody, grinning.

"It's Sunday. Day of rest. C'mon, what's in the bag?"

"Beef barley. And a tomato and mozzarella salad."

"Really?"

"Why would I lie to you about a salad?"

"I don't know. It sounds great." Nick tried not to grab things while Cody pulled containers out of the bag. Sure enough, there was a little bowl full of slices of tomato and fresh mozzarella.

It was all delicious. Nick lay back in bed, completely content. Cody, however, had a strangely serious expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" said Nick finally.

Cody looked at him for a long moment. "Nick...where's your storage unit?"

It was such a strange question that Nick blinked, taken off-guard. "Storage unit? Huh?"

"Your storage unit," repeated Cody.

"I don't have one," answered Nick. "You think I can afford one? Hell, I don't even have anything to store."

"Nick," said Cody, coming closer and sitting down on the bed, "where are your medals? Where's your dress uniform? Your trophies from high school...your baseball glove. Your mom's wedding ring. I found a shoebox with your pictures, but...there wasn't anything else."

Nick stared at him. "I hocked everything."

"Everything," repeated Cody, looking stunned.

"How the hell do you think I paid the bills? Cody, it was hundreds of thousands of dollars. Not a couple grand. _Hundreds of thousands of dollars._ They won't take a credit card for that."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. "You..." He took a shaky breath. "I can't...I didn't realize. I thought you...you might have put stuff in storage because you were worried. About theft..."

"No." Nick shook his head. "I sold everything. It barely covered the chopper, and what was left over from the medical bills."

"I didn't know." He looked shell-shocked.

Nick frowned. "How did you..." Sudden realization hit him hard. "You were in my apartment today."

"Well, yes," said Cody warily. "I had to...arrange a few things, and—"

"Arrange what things?" demanded Nick.

"I paid the rent."

"And what else?"

"Things." Cody shifted in his chair and scratched his neck. "So, about—"

"Tell me about what you arranged." Nick fixed him with his gaze.

Cody flushed and looked away. "Well, I was hoping we could get into that later..."

"Now's a better time."

"Fine." Cody held up his hands. "I terminated your lease and utilities and packed your things. I mean, the few things that you had. It isn't really official. You still need to sign the lease termination, but I got everything started. Your landlord said he'd take care of the furniture..."

"You..." Nick stared at him, aghast. "You did _what_?"

"I said, it isn't official yet, but I got the ball rolling." Cody tried to affect a charming smile, but it faded quickly. "Nick, we're together, right? I mean, you're going to move in with me, and you don't really need that apartment any longer. I just thought I could take care of all of that for you."

"Cody..." Nick pressed his hands to his eyes and just sat there, counting to ten. _Bend. Bend. He thought he was helping._

"Baby, I'm sorry," said Cody, sounding panicked and bewildered at the same time. "I didn't...I don't understand..."

"You..." Nick took a steadying breath, then another, letting his hands drop. "Listen, Cody, it's just...it's my apartment. My things. We're still...we're still so new, we're still getting together, you know? And I know that what I have isn't much. But it's mine, and it was..." His throat constricted a little, and he swallowed.

Cody looked stricken. "I didn't think about it. He called and said the rent was due, and I just...it seemed stupid to keep two places, especially that one."

"I get it. I really do." Nick tried to keep his temper under control. "I know you're helping. I know you have the best intentions in the world. But it was my place, and..." Suddenly it occurred to him how Cody must have felt, locked out of the decision to help him with his father, sitting there helplessly while he left for hours on end.

"Nick?"

"I'm sorry." He lay back, wincing a little. "You're right. It's stupid to have two places. But maybe next time you'll ask me first."

"I'll ask right now," said Cody, grabbing his hand. "Do you want to move in with me and get rid of your apartment?"

"Yeah," said Nick softly. "Yes. I do."

Cody's smile could have powered the sun.

* * *

Monday's physical therapy was grueling. Nick slept most of the afternoon while Andrew sketched nonstop in his sketchpad. Every time he woke up he heard the scrape of pencil on paper.

Cody was early, bearing the usual bag from Grasch's, but none of his sunshine.

"Cody? Everything okay?" asked Nick.

He sighed and flopped down in the chair, leaving Nick to open the bag and pull out the food. "Michele figured it—us—out."

"Oh." Nick had entirely forgotten that she didn't know. "How'd she take it?"

"Not well." He ran a hand through his hair. "She came in this morning looking upset, and when I asked her what was wrong, she burst into tears and locked herself in the bathroom."

Nick opened the container of rice and dug his fork in. "Damn. That's too bad." There were chunks of chicken and vegetables in the rice, and it smelled delicious. "She really liked you. You probably were her first crush."

"I think so. She grew up in a rather sheltered environment." Cody brushed a bit of lint off his lapel. "It's pretty awkward. Later, when I was giving her some work, she didn't say a word. She just nodded yes or no to my questions."

"She'll get over it." He speared a piece of chicken on his fork. "Eventually."

He winced. "I know. But I just can't help it..."

"You feel guilty." Nick ate a few more bites. "It's not that bad. She'll feel some heartache, and then she'll find someone else to hitch her star to."

"I guess."

"Y'know, when I was in high school, there was this girl—"

"Tanya Frederickson."

"No, not her. Tanya was the one I proposed to. Before her, there was Angie. She was gorgeous, dark hair, great-looking. It was love at first sight. Well, for me, anyway. She was a senior, and I was a freshman, and I followed her around like a moonsick cow for days."

Cody chuckled. "Sounds like your usual method."

"Ha, ha. Anyway, she never seemed to notice me. Until one day, I screwed up the courage to go say hi. Those five steps were the hardest steps I've ever taken." He paused to take another bite.

"What happened?"

"She looked at me, and then just turned around and left. That was it. It was like I didn't exist. I just stood there. I couldn't believe that the stars didn't fall out of the sky, the world kept turning... "

"That must have hurt."

"Oh yeah, it hurt like hell. I didn't even want to go back to school the next day. Or ever. But I got over it. We all do."

"This is a little different, Nick. Angie wasn't dating other girls, and you weren't working for her."

"Well, yeah, there is that." He took another bite. "But Michele's a good kid. I think she'll be fine in the long run."

"I hope so."

A nurse brought Nick his evening meds. He finished the rice, scraping the bottom of the bowl. There were strawberries, fresh and ripe.

Cody stared off into space, a slight frown on his lips.

"Still thinking about Michele?" asked Nick, settling back into bed and trying not to wince.

"Yeah," admitted Cody, flashing him a quick look.

"She'll be fine." Nick shifted a little until the pain in his hip lessened.

"I'd hate to have to let her go."

"You'd fire her?"

"If I had to." Cody got up and paced, looking miserable. "I would hate to, though. I don't know where else she'd get another job like this." He glanced up at the door. "Hey, Tim."

"Hi." Tim wasn't wearing his white coat, and he looked distracted. There were dark circles under his eyes.

"What's up?" asked Nick.

"I had a patient at the hospital who just came out of surgery." Tim picked up Nick's chart and looked at it without really looking at it, flipping pages listlessly. "I thought I'd stop by and check in here as well.

"Are you okay?" asked Cody. "You look awful."

Tim put the chart back and took a seat in the chair, staring at the floor.

"What happened?" asked Nick.

"Sheila happened."

"Sheila?" Nick frowned, trying to remember the name. "Your ex?" Tim nodded.

"You didn't..." Cody sat down on the edge of Nick's bed. "Tim, tell me you're not back together."

Tim paused. "Well...no."

Cody relaxed visibly. "Did she call you, then?"

He nodded again. "She said Brad cheated on her and she was leaving him."

"What happened then?"

"She came over and I—I just..."

Cody tensed again. "She came over? Wait, when did this happen?"

"Last night. She was crying, and she needed a place to go—"

"Tim, I don't think—"

"Don't." Tim looked up at him. "Don't say you think it was a bad idea, or you wouldn't have done the same." He looked pointedly at Nick.

"The situations aren't analogous," said Cody, reddening.

"She doesn't have any other friends?" asked Nick quietly.

"She said she didn't." Tim sighed and seemed to wilt in the chair. "I couldn't say no."

"Did you—"

"No, Cody, we didn't do anything. We just talked, and she cried, and then I went to sleep. On the couch."

"Oh. Okay."

They were all silent for a long moment. Tim looked pensive. "I don't think Brad cheated on her."

"Then what happened?" asked Nick.

"I think she cheated on him, like she did..." He trailed off, swallowing.

"What are you going to do?" asked Cody.

He shrugged. "I don't know. She gets off work in another half hour, and she asked me to come by Brad's place and help her move stuff out." He exhaled. "I mean, I know that this is all just a bad vibe, and I should just let the bad feelings go and let the universe take care of it, and I should help her if I can, but part of me..."

"She cheated on you," said Cody. "She cheated on you and dumped you, and she was a bitch about it, and she lied to everyone you knew and told them all that you were slapping her around. She made her bed, let her lie in it."

"She needs my help."

"For what? To move out? She can hire a goddamn moving company." Cody glared at him.

"Cody, she's alone, and this guy—"

Cody got off the bed. "Stop it! She's no victim. Stop making her into one. _She_ got herself into this mess and _she_ can get herself out of it. You need to—"

"Tim," interrupted Nick. "Listen, man, she's bad news. You gave her a safe night, which is more than you should have, probably. You don't owe her anything. Let her go."

"I know." Tim sat back in the chair and looked at the ceiling. "It's just...really hard."

"She sounds like bad news," said Nick firmly.

Tim put up his hands as if to surrender. "You're right. You're both right. I'll stay away from her."

"Don't pick up the phone if she calls," said Cody. "Don't let her stay another night. Count the silverware—"

"Whoa," said Nick, cracking up. "Cody, c'mon."

"She's not the Artful Dodger type," said Tim.

"I guess not," said Cody reluctantly. "But you can't trust her."

"Maybe not." Tim looked at Nick. "I just couldn't help but wonder...I mean, you two..."

"There was a lot of water under the bridge," said Cody carefully, "but it wasn't...like that."

"It just made me think that maybe I was too hasty. That I should give her another chance."

"Not this one." Cody's tone was firm.

"Yes, I heard you the first time," said Tim. He exhaled, standing up. "Look, I'm going to go home, have a drink, and try to forget that this ever happened."

"Unplug the phone," said Cody.

Tim laughed. "Don't worry, I have caller ID. Have a good night, guys." He waved as he left.

"Damn." Cody looked frustrated. "Damn, damn, damn."

"Cody, the guy's all right. He'll be all right." Nick tried to reach for him, but he moved off the bed.

"She was a real winner," said Cody, pacing back and forth. "She put him through the wringer, and cheated on him, and then ran off with Brad, and—"

"Cody, I get it." Nick made a grab for his arm, and missed. "C'mon, sit down, you're making me dizzy."

"What?" Cody turned to look at him, and a look of guilt flashed across his face, and then he sat down. "I'm sorry. It's just...he's a great guy and he doesn't deserve that."

"Nobody deserves that." Nick gazed at him. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it either."

"You didn't cheat—"

"You know what I mean."

"I meant what I said. It's water under the bridge now."

"Good." Nick smiled at him.

"Love you," said Cody quietly.

"Love you too."

* * *

Tuesday morning Nick woke up with a headache that didn't let go until well into the afternoon. Andrew sketched through lunch, but stopped after a visit from his prosthetist, and spent the rest of the time staring intently at the ceiling.

Nick had just finished reading yesterday's sports section when his landlord came wandering in. Tall and potbellied, he wore his usual baggy tweed suit. "Hey, Ryder."

"Mr. Taylor?" Nick tossed the paper to a nearby table. "What brings you here?"

"Manny. My uncle. He's having a new knee put in." Taylor stood at the foot of his bed, one hand gesturing carelessly. "You almost done with this?"

"Friday," said Nick. "Wish it could be even sooner."

"Your buddy came by," said Taylor, pulling a manila envelope out of the pocket of his suit coat. "Said you wanted to end your lease."

"Yeah."

"Well, it's an early termination, and I'm supposed to get thirty days' notice. But I won't tell if you don't." He grinned. "Say, he told me he was in the same unit as you."

Nick nodded. "Airborne. We were in a few slicks together."

"He must have known Doc Harris, then, too."

"Sure. We did a fair amount of drinking together."

"That old reprobate. I miss him." Taylor's grin turned wistful. "He was the only good thing that came out of my tour in Korea. Friends like that are hard to find. Anyway, here's the lease termination paperwork. You should sign it, and then I can have another useless, empty apartment."

Nick took the papers from him and turned to the final page. "Uh…I don't know where my pen went…" He strained to look on the nightstand.

"You got a pen we can borrow?" Taylor asked Andrew.

"Certainly." Andrew handed him one.

"Thanks," said Nick. It was a Cross pen, beautifully made, with Andrew's initials on it. "Great pen." He signed his name.

"Yes," said Andrew stiffly.

"Where'd you serve?" asked Taylor, looking at Andrew.

"Kuwait." Andrew turned to his sketchpad and attacked it with his pencils.

"Need a place to stay? Seeing as I've got this extra apartment now…" Taylor adjusted his jacket, a knowing look on his face. "Ground floor, too."

Andrew looked up hesitantly. "How much?"

"Well, usually I charge $800 a month. Ocean view and all that. But this apartment, it's on the east side of the block, and I like to give my fellow vets a break. $500 sound good to you?"

Andrew hesitated for a long moment. "Yes, it…it sounds very good. But I need to think about it. Could…"

"I'll leave my number." He took the pen back from Nick, and pulled out a small notebook. He scribbled down the information and ripped the page out, handing it to Andrew along with his pen.

"Thank you," said Andrew automatically.

"Well," said Taylor to Nick. "It was real nice having you as a tenant. I'll miss sharing a drink with you. Take care of yourself, and tell your buddy I said hi."

"I will," promised Nick.

Taylor replaced the envelope in his pocket and patted his pockets until he'd found his keys. He gave Nick and Andrew a wave as he left.

Andrew went right back to sketching, pointedly ignoring Nick. Nick settled back in bed with a sigh.

* * *

"It's official," said Nick as Cody came in, paper bag in tow.

"What is?" Cody pulled a chair close and set the bag on the tray table.

"My lease is finished." Nick opened the bag and inhaled the scent of soup. "Chicken?"

"Chicken dumpling."

"I think I've tried every possible soup Grasch's makes," said Nick, popping off the cover and stirring it with a plastic spoon.

"There's still clam chowder," said Cody. "Wait…your lease is what?"

"Done. Terminated." He tasted a spoonful. The broth was perfect. "Taylor came by today and I signed it."

"That's some landlord."

"Tell me about it." The chicken was good quality and the dumplings were homemade. Nick finished the bowl in record time and sat back with a contented sigh. "So…sell any houses today?"

Cody winced. "Not exactly."

"What about that guy?" Nick thought for a moment. "Clark somebody."

"Brian Clark."

"Yeah, that guy."

"He hasn't returned my calls. His assistant says he's really busy at the moment." Cody leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "I'm just not getting any new leads. And I've been going through my old files, but it's been…quiet."

"It'll get better," said Nick, giving him a smile. "C'mon, Cody, we've been through worse dry spells. Remember that time we had to eat peanut butter sandwiches for a month?"

Cody chuckled. "How could I forget? I never wanted to eat peanut butter again." He gazed at Nick. "There's no chance of that now. I've invested some money and I've got a healthy savings account." He faltered for a moment. "But I really like it, you know? Selling houses. I miss…"

"…the thrill."

"Well, yes. And the commission checks." He scratched his neck. "So Tim tells me that they're letting you out on Friday."

Nick couldn't help but grin. "Yeah. Just two more days, and then I can get the hell out of this place."

"That's great." Cody looked happy. "We'll have to celebrate."

"Getting out is celebration enough." Nick stretched and yawned. "Though if you really want to celebrate, I want a steak. You should take me out for a steak."

"I'll make you a steak at home."

"Okay, fine." He shifted in bed, changing the position of his leg. "Look at that. Will you look at that? I can move my leg."

"That's great, Nick. How's the pain?"

"Fine," said Nick, not caring that he was lying through his teeth. _Well, not lying outright, just stretching the truth._

Cody gave him a skeptical look.

"Look, I'm fine. Really."

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Cody, his tone frank.

"How about Michele?" said Nick, changing the subject. "How's she doing?"

"Good." Cody looked down at the floor. "I mean, she still won't talk to me, other than responses to direct questions, but at least she's not bursting into tears now."

"Well, that's an improvement." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Dr. Coen's going to stop by on Thursday. Make sure everything's in the right place."

Cody looked up. "What time?"

"Ten, eleven, something like that."

"I'll add it to my planner—"

"C'mon, I'll be okay."

"Nick, I know you'll be okay." Cody looked truly exasperated. "I just want to know what's going on. I need to know what the plan is for PT, as well as aftercare instructions, and I need to know what sort of exercises you'll need to do, and about your followup appointments—"

"Okay, okay!" Nick held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. Stop by. We'll serve cake and punch."

Cody laughed. "Make sure you order out."

"What, you don't like VA punch? But they use only the finest herring heads." Nick grinned, happy to see Cody laughing.

Even Andrew cracked a smile at that, though he quickly went back to his sketching. Nick settled back in bed, and Cody leaned forward, covering his hand with his own, and they talked quietly until it was time for him to leave.

* * *

Nick had just finished buttoning his shirt cuffs when Cody walked in. "Hey," he said with a grin. "Look, I'm dressed. I'm ready to go, man."

Cody seemed preoccupied. "Have you filled out the discharge paperwork yet?" His phone was in his hand, and he was pressing buttons on it, distracted. "How about your clothes? Are you packed?"

"Packed since last night." Nick couldn't help but keep grinning; there were butterflies in his stomach. "C'mon, let's go."

"We need to take care of the paperwork. Did Coen—"

"You were there yesterday, you asked him yourself." Nick tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. "Let's just—"

Shannon peeked into the room. "Nick? Are you really leaving us?"

"Absolutely." He took a few steps forward, leaning on his cane. "Thanks for all the help."

She gave him a hug. "It was great having you as a patient. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. Just not this place. And especially not the food."

She giggled. "Nobody misses the food here." She let go and smiled at him. "Take care of yourself, Nick. Bye, Cody."

"You too." He watched as she left, and noticed Andrew watching her as well.

Cody was facing the wall, talking quietly on the phone, and Nick turned to Andrew. "Hey, man, nice being your roommate. Hope you get out soon, too."

"Yes, it was a pleasure," said Andrew stiffly. Nick shook his hand, and then Andrew went right back to his sketchbook.

"Are you ready?" asked Cody abruptly.

"Never been readier," said Nick truthfully.

Nick had to sign discharge forms and listen to the nurse and initial that he'd received the aftercare instructions. He waited as patiently as he could. He listened as patiently as he could. He signed and initialed as patiently as he could.

And then he was free.

The day was overcast, clouds threatening rain, but it was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in weeks. Months, even. Out of the rehab facility, and into Cody's life. He couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was.

The Yukon was in the front of the parking lot, and Nick got in with a little help from Cody. The air was cool and damp.

"Ready to go home?" Cody's tone was casual, but the emotion on his face wasn't.

Home. Was he ready to call Cody's house home? He paused for a second, mulling it over, but in the end he knew his answer. "Yes," he said firmly, taking Cody's hand in his. "C'mon. I'm ready for that steak."

"It's ten in the morning," said Cody, chuckling.

"It'll taste just as good. Steak 'n' eggs is a classic."

"Eggs are a good start." Cody's hand squeezed his.

The trip seemed to take forever. It felt like a hundred years had passed before they came to Cody's subdivision. _My subdivision, now._ The streets even looked different.

The front door definitely looked different.

"Why did you paint the front door?" asked Nick, frowning.

Cody looked uncomfortable. "There was…some graffiti."

"Graffiti." Nick stared at the door, imagining the slurs that had been painted there. "Damn." So much for the neighborhood welcoming him with open arms. He felt his anger rise, but he tamped it down.

None of it mattered, as long as no one got hurt, and as long as they had each other. _If I find out who did it, though…_ Cody opened the garage door and parked the truck.

The house looked different inside, as well. The carpeting in the living room was darker and denser. The walls had been repainted and the splotchy paintings were gone, replaced with black and white photos of forests and mountains in dark wooden frames.

Things began to click into place. "You bought the recliners on purpose," said Nick.

Cody looked confused. "Uh…"

"How long did you…want me back?" asked Nick quietly. "How long were you wanting us to get back together?"

"A long time." Cody touched his arm, pulling him close.

"At the party…"

"I'm sorry," murmured Cody. "But I'd thought of you for so long, wanted you, missed you…and then there you were, and you looked at me like I was nothing, and you were just going to walk right out the door like I never meant anything to you, like you'd forgotten who I was. It hurt so much that I…I just reacted."

"I'm sorry, too." Nick kissed his neck, and held him close.

"I thought it was impossible. But then there was just something…when I dropped you off, at the end, you seemed like…you seemed like you might…that you still might care. And then I couldn't stop thinking about you. That's when I realized that I had to try."

"Thanks," said Nick.

"For what?"

"For giving me a chance." Nick closed his eyes and enjoyed the scent of Cody's hair, the feel of his body against his own. "I had no clue, though. I couldn't figure out what you were up to. I thought maybe it was guilt."

"Well, there was a little of that, too…"

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

They stood there for a long moment, and Nick let everything fade away, the old losses, the pain, the heartbreak and the regret. There was only Cody, and the rest of their lives. That was all that mattered.

That, and flying Mimi again. He pressed another kiss against Cody's neck. "So…when's lunch?"

"How about a late breakfast? I've got some eggs, and bread…"

"Sure. Sounds great." They broke apart, and he leaned on his cane. "You remodeled while I was gone, huh?"

"I had to do something. Tammi was right, it was looking a little dated."

"I like the pictures."

Cody moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Ansel Adams. I've always loved his work." He brought out a carton of eggs and put a few in a bowl. "I also had them redo the guest bedroom and bathroom, though it isn't finished yet. And the master bedroom."

"Really?" Nick limped into the guest bedroom. The walls were a cinnamon color and the bed was now fitted with dark red covers. There was a new dresser made out of a dark lacquered wood. It looked vaguely Asian. A new TV sat on a small stand. There were framed pictures of Chinese writing on the wall.

The bathroom was still torn apart. New tiles sat in a large pile, different shades of red, and a new sink was already installed.

Nick came back out and sat down at the kitchen table. "Looks great."

"Thanks." Cody gave him a happy smile. "I thought it might be nice to get a new look."

"The kitchen looks the same."

"Well, I always liked it. What do you think?"

"It's great. Just needs someone to make some good Italian food in it."

Cody turned to look at him, pausing mid-whisk. "I…you don't…"

"C'mon, Cody…you think I'm gonna be a cripple forever? You think I'm gonna sit around and let you cook everything forever?" Nick gave him a determined look. "I can pull my own weight. I can do some cooking. You're the one who's gone all day. Plus, it'll be a few weeks before I can start flying again—"

"Nick…" Cody put the bowl down and turned to face him. "I just…I don't know if that's a good idea."

"It is," said Nick. "I'll pick up some of my old routes again, if I can. Cody, I can't just sit here all day in bed. That's not how it's gonna be."

"You shouldn't be on your feet," said Cody quietly. "And you shouldn't be flying a helicopter. You need both legs for that--"

"What do you think all this rehab is for?" asked Nick, his temper surfacing. "And the surgery? You think I did all of that just for fun? I can walk. I can stand. I might not be up to running just yet, but I'll sure as hell be flying a chopper in two weeks. And if you can't handle that, then you better tell me now, so I can call Taylor."

Cody stood there, looking stunned, and then he nodded reluctantly. "You're right. I mean, you shouldn't…" His right hand was gripping the counter so tightly that his knuckles were white. "I'm just worried, Nick. I don't want to—to lose you." He blinked.

Nick was up in a flash, ignoring the pain in his hip, holding him tightly. "You're not going to lose me," he said fiercely. "But you have to…Cody, you gotta give me some space. Your house is great, really great, but I'm not going to just hang out here permanently on the couch. I need to do my own thing, too. The important thing is that I love you and I'm not leaving you."

"Our house," corrected Cody, his voice muffled against Nick's neck.

"Our…"

"I'll get the paperwork done in the next week or two." Cody leaned back and looked him in the eyes. "We're together. I want you in my life, in every way. And I'll try to give you…some space. But you can't blame me for being a little…"

"Overprotective."

"…overprotective. After seeing what you've gone through over the past month…" He shuddered, turning pale.

"Hey, I'm okay. I'm here." Nick soothed him with his touch. "Not going anywhere. Except a few flights in a chopper. It'll be okay."

Cody nodded, and Nick kissed him, gentle and easy and careful, and finally Cody relaxed and went back to whisking the eggs.

Nick sat down again, feeling more content than he had in years. _I could watch Cody cook breakfast for the next decade. The next hundred decades._ He leaned back in his chair and watched as Cody poured the eggs into a skillet.

 _I could watch Cody do a lot of things._ His eyes lingered appreciatively on the gorgeous body in front of him. _And even more things that involve the hot tub._

The toast popped up out of the toaster, and Cody snatched it quickly, putting it on a plate. "I was thinking of staying home this weekend," he said. "Just having a low-key weekend to ourselves."

"Sounds nice." Nick stretched his leg out. "So what'd you do with my furniture?"

"Taylor said he'd take care of it." Cody stirred the eggs.

"He'll probably split it up between some of the other tenants." Nick unfolded his napkin. "He's got a few vets living there, guys who don't have a lot of income…"

"He mentioned that."

"Or maybe Andrew'll end up with a fully furnished apartment." _Good luck with Mrs. Stuart._

"Andrew? He looks like he comes from money. I can't imagine why he'd move into your apartment."

"Taylor asked him about renting, and he seemed open to the idea." He sat and thought. "What about my…" Cody'd already brought over his clothes and shoes. _What's left?_ Something nagged at him, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"There wasn't really any food, and Taylor said he had a use for the silverware and the dishes. He said he'd lent you the war novels, so I left those with him, too. I packed your heating pads, and the stuff in your medicine cabinet. And I brought that little black filing cabinet here, with the paperwork."

"The TV?"

"You really wanted that TV?" Cody turned to him, surprised.

"I don't know. Guess not." He watched as Cody brought the skillet to the table and deftly spooned out some scrambled eggs on his plate. "Thanks."

"Sure." Cody put the skillet in the sink, and ran water on it, causing a hiss and cloud of steam to expand upward. He shut off the water and brought the toast to the table.

"You're not eating?"

"No, I ate earlier." Cody took a sip of water from his glass.

"Oh." Nick smeared blackberry jam on his toast. "Michele's not coming by today?"

"No. I don't really have any work for her…" He frowned and scratched his neck. "I was thinking about renting a movie."

"Sure."

"What do you want to see?"

Nick shrugged. "Whatever you want to see."

Cody crossed his arms and leaned his elbows on the table. "I guess I'll just have to pick something, then."

"Sure." The eggs were perfect, as always. If there was one thing Cody Allen could make, it was perfect eggs. Nick savored another forkful. "Want to tell me more about the front door?"

"There's nothing to say." Cody looked down at the table, absently rubbing at a spot. "I told the police about it, and they were polite, but it won't get investigated."

"Spray paint?"

"Yes. Red spray paint." He exhaled. "It's a good thing the remodelers were here the rest of the time. I think they scared them off. Plus, they repainted the door."

"Probably some jerk kids."

"Maybe." Cody's tone was neutral, and Nick wondered what he knew.

"You going to set up an alarm system?" asked Nick, taking a bite of toast.

"I was thinking about it." Cody looked up at him. "I'm a little worried. This is a conservative neighborhood, and now that I'm…now that I have a higher profile…"

"You're a target. We're a target."

"I just want us to be safe." He leaned back in his chair, looking frustrated. "It just doesn't seem fair, you know? We're paying taxes, we're not hurting anyone…"

"My father always said life wasn't fair." The jelly was delicious. He took another bite. "He was right. Much as I hate to say it."

"I never thought I'd hear you say anything nice about him."

"He was an asshole."

"That's more like the Nick I remember."

"He was an asshole, and he knew how to throw a punch. Hard to remember anything good about him, really. But…he said some good stuff. He just never followed his own advice." He picked up his fork again. "Some stuff…it kind of helped, the last year."

"Helped? How?"

"I don't know. I just…I thought of what he'd say, and sometimes it seemed to make things easier." He shifted the eggs around on his plate. "I think…the best thing he said…"

Cody stared at him expectantly.

"Well, it's kind of…it's not that amazing, I guess, but it got me through the last year. He used to say, 'Bend, don't break.' Not that the bastard knew anything about bending. He was as stubborn as a mule and he'd kick like one, too. But when I was in the hospital, I just kept remembering it, you know? And it made sense. If I could just bend, I'd get through it. I could get through anything as long as I didn't break, if I just let it go."

"It sounds pretty amazing to me."

"Maybe." He stared at the eggs. "I think it might be the only good thing he ever did, besides leave."

"If it helped, that's something," said Cody. "Not everybody could have gone through what you went through and come through the other side so…well-adjusted."

"Well-adjusted?" echoed Nick. He almost laughed. "Is that what you call it?"

"Well-adjusted, calm…even though you're still as stubborn as a mule, yourself." Cody smiled.

"Can't argue with that." He ate another forkful of eggs. "Well-adjusted, huh? What a word."

"It's true, Nick. I've never seen you like this before. I mean, you were always strong, but this…you just persevered through all of it. You took it one day at a time and you kept moving forward."

"You just missed my backward moments." He put his fork down. "The first time, in the hospital, I cried plenty. I thought my life was over. I thought everything was over, that I'd never fly again, never work again. They were saying I might not even walk…" His hand trembled, and Cody leaned forward, his hand reaching out to touch him, reassure him. He took a deep breath. "It wasn't a good time. The nightmares…but then…I dreamt that I was breaking, and when I woke up I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I realized that it was up to me not to break."

"You didn't, Nick." Cody's fingers were warm and soothing on his wrist. "You didn't break. You're still here."

"I came close." Nick felt the tears prickling in his eyes. "You didn't see. This time, it was a cakewalk, compared to that."

They sat in silence for a long moment, Nick blinking back tears, Cody's fingers making small circles on the back of his hand. Finally he wiped his eyes with his free hand and grinned. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Nick," said Cody quietly. "You went through hell and back."

"Yeah, well, lots of guys go through lots worse." He shivered. "I'm just lucky, really." He gazed deep in Cody's eyes. _The luckiest guy alive._

Cody smiled. "I am, too." His eyes were full of light, and warmth, and love, and Nick felt his heart respond in kind.

"Thanks for breakfast." He squeezed Cody's hand and leaned back, wiping his face with his napkin.

"That's all you're going to eat?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not that hungry." He got up and stretched a little, the throb in his hip growing a little stronger.

"Okay." He looked disappointed.

"You promised me a steak," reminded Nick.

"Oh, you'll get your steak," said Cody. "Don't worry about that." He picked up the plate and discarded the rest of the eggs in the trash. Nick came up behind him as he was rinsing the plate and hugged him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, loving having him in his arms. "Hey," gasped Cody.

"Something wrong?" Nick licked the edge of his ear, the way he knew used to drive him crazy, and Cody nearly dropped the plate. "You're awfully clumsy all of a sudden…"

Cody turned and grabbed him, hands slick and wet, and kissed him, a real kiss that turned his bones to water, a kiss that seared him down to his soul. Nick was barely aware of anything else; everything was reduced to feeling Cody against him, the kiss so hot and true that he felt himself trembling inside.

When they broke apart, Cody was panting, and he rested his forehead against his, looking completely shellshocked. "Nick…"

"Yeah. Me, too." His hands rested on Cody's waist, and he could feel the heat between them. "You feel so good."

"Like fire," said Cody quietly. He sounded shaken to his core. "God, I've missed you so much, Nick."

They kissed again, with urgency, with passion, and Nick felt the old ghost returning, the bright flame of passion burning anew for Cody.

"C'mon," said Cody breathlessly. "Bed."

Nick couldn't manage anything more coherent than a nod, and he followed Cody, nearly stumbling in his haste to make it to the bedroom. The walls looked different, as well as the covers on the bed, but he didn't care; Cody's hands were pulling off his shirt, and he was fumbling with the button on Cody's jeans. It seemed to take ages before they were naked against each other, hot flesh touching, Cody gorgeous and golden and gloriously nude.

"Want you so bad," whispered Nick, biting Cody's neck, and Cody rubbed against him, hot and hard and so good that he groaned. His cock was like a burning brand covered in velvet. "Cody, unh—"

"Want you, too." Cody's voice was deep and throaty and so sexy that Nick's cock twitched. "I've wanted you so much…" Cody rubbed against him again, and it felt amazing. Like waking up from a delicious dream, to find himself in an even better one. He felt the friction building as they ground against each other, the rhythm falling into place as if they'd never left. It was overwhelming, and looking into Cody's eyes, blue and full of desire and heat, Nick felt his orgasm building, his whole body tingling, and then he was coming. Hot fluid pulsed between them, the intensity of it wringing gasping moans from his throat. Cody followed, groaning loudly as he came, and then they lay there, panting and entwined, Nick's head on Cody's arm, Cody pulling him tightly against him. He could feel every breath, could feel Cody's erection slowly subsiding. He swallowed and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted after the effort.

His hip ached, and he sighed. _Reality intrudes._

"That was amazing," said Cody, a happy smile lighting his face. As always, Cody seemed to get a second wind after sex, while Nick only wanted to sleep. "I've missed you so much." He reached out a hand, lightly tracing his jawline, and Nick shivered. "I can't believe it…I can't believe you're in my bed again."

"I've been in your bed for over a month," said Nick, amused.

"But you weren't _really_ there," said Cody, his hand caressing his cheek.

"I am now." Nick felt his eyelids getting heavier. "In fact, I feel like I could sleep for a week." He yawned. "Only…there's steak."

Cody chuckled, and it reverberated through his chest. "Of course. Steak, and anything else you desire."

"Mmm. You."

"You have that already." Cody pressed a kiss against him. "Uh…but maybe we should clean up…"

"Mmm." Nick's eyelids slid shut. "Sounds good."

He woke an hour later, wrapped in blankets, Cody next to him reading a book. He stretched, rubbing his knee against Cody's ankle. "Hey."

"Hey." Cody put the book down and took his glasses off. "Feeling refreshed?" He grinned slyly.

"Hells yes." Nick rolled forward a little, and winced at the pain.

"Do you need a pill?"

"I'm okay for now." Nick let the pain wash over him, and when it subsided, he reached out his hand to stroke Cody's arm.

"So what do you think?" asked Cody, a shy smile on his face.

"Mind-blowing," said Nick. "C'mon, man, you and I always saw fireworks together."

Cody rolled his eyes. "Not the sex. I know that was mind-blowing. The room! What do you think about the room?"

"Oh." Nick flushed. Looking around, he realized that the walls were blue. "Huh. Blue's a good color…"

"Blue, like the sky," said Cody. "You like flying so much, and it reminded me of the ocean…"

"It's great," said Nick. Cody looked uncertain. Vulnerable. "It's _really_ great." He squeezed Cody's wrist. "I love it."

"Thanks." Cody leaned down and kissed him, his moustache tickling the corner of his mouth. "I wasn't so sure at first, but I like it now."

"What else did you change?"

"That was it. Just the guest rooms, and the living room, and our bedroom. I left everything else, though I'm thinking about changing the look of the weight room."

"Bathroom still the same?"

"Yes, I didn't think—"

"Still got a Jacuzzi?"

"Well, of course—"

"With lots of hot water?"

Cody suddenly caught on and gave him a wicked grin. "Let me show you."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the hot tub, relearning each other's bodies. Nick loved to touch Cody, loved the physical beauty of the man, loved hearing him and tasting him and watching him. It was the closest thing to heaven he'd ever known, and now that he was back in his life, he couldn't get enough of him.

Eventually, though, Cody wanted to make dinner, and Nick's stomach agreed. They toweled off, and Cody put on a pair of ridiculously short shorts that were a good ten years out of date. Nick pulled on his sweatpants and came out into the kitchen to watch him make their steaks.

"I've been buying from this guy…he raises grass-fed cattle. The meat is really lean." Cody cut the tips off the green beans, and Nick watched, entranced by the play of muscles in his back. "Corn-fed cattle has to be fed antibiotics, you know? And that's not good. They're not as healthy because it's not their natural diet. Plus, they're given hormones. Angelo tells me that they just let their cattle graze the old-fashioned way." Turning to look at Nick, he laughed. "Are you even listening?"

"Oh yeah, man. Cattle have to eat corn for their old-fashioned hormones." Nick sat down at the kitchen table.

"Your brains got turned to jelly in the hot tub, I see."

"My brains might have been jelly, but I recall something else that was hard as a rock…"

Cody only chuckled, shaking his head.

Nick rubbed at his hip absently. The ache was growing, and he carefully stretched out his leg under the table. Closing his eyes, he waited for the pain to die down, and when he opened them, Cody was in front of him with a pill and a glass of water.

"Thanks," he said, taking the pill without argument.

"This shouldn't take long," said Cody, turning back to the sink.

"So who're you selling a house to next week?"

"I don't know." Cody slid the green beans into a sizzling frying pan. "Maybe Brian Clark. I finally got ahold of his assistant, and it turns out he's just been really busy. He's supposed to meet with me on Tuesday."

"That's cool. What about his actor pal?"

"Carlos Morales."

"Yeah, him."

"I don't know. I'll ask Clark when I see him. I mean, _if_ I see him."

"You don't think he'll show?"

"There's a fifty percent chance he won't. I've dealt with actors and producers before."

"Huh. That's too bad." Nick shifted again.

"Par for the course."

His hip wouldn't stop throbbing. He sighed and adjusted his leg again. Tim had been right about the range of movement; he was more flexible and he thought he might even be able to walk without a cane eventually. The pain, however, had only diminished partially, and that worried him because he didn't want to spend the rest of his life taking painkillers. Still, he wasn't sorry he'd had the surgery. He could deal with a little pain.

Cody turned to the upper wall-mounted oven and checked on the steaks. Not satisfied, he closed the oven door and turned back to the range, shaking the pan that held the green beans. "I talked to someone else, actually. He's a pretty well-known interior designer, and he's looking for a home in King Harbor. I think I might have found a property he'll like. Very private, great views…"

"Sounds great." Nick watched the muscles in his thighs flex. "How'd he find you?"

"The interior designer who did the remodeling knew him, and she mentioned me to him." He pulled plates out of a cabinet and put them on the table.

"You should definitely send her a Christmas card."

"Absolutely. And a nice gift, too." He pulled silverware out of the drawer and napkins. "I'll give him a tour on Monday."

"How many open houses do you have lined up?"

"Open houses aren't that common for high-end properties." Cody frowned as he opened the lower oven, checking a potato with a fork. "I don't have any scheduled at the moment. I'm just working on generating leads right now…"

"I need to call Del." He thought for a minute. "Hey, did you deposit that check?"

"Yes." Cody looked into the upper oven again, and then took two glasses out of a cabinet, filling them with ice and water.

"Maybe I should leave my account open," mused Nick aloud. "Could be the Mimi account."

"Your choice." Cody's body language revealed that he would rather not think about Mimi.

Dinner was fantastic. The steaks were cooked perfectly, the potatoes were steaming hot, and the green beans were fresh. Nick enjoyed every bite. After weeks of hospital and rehab food, it was heaven.

Afterward, they went out to the living room, and Nick sat down on the couch while Cody went through his VHS collection, trying to find something to watch.

"Wish I had remembered to go to the rental store," he grumbled. "I don't have a lot of movies."

"But that whole set of shelves is full of tapes," said Nick.

"They're mostly sales lectures." Cody pulled one out at random. "The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Salespeople." He put it back and looked at another. "Marketing Real Estate: An Insider's Guide. Not exactly high entertainment."

"That first shelf is all sales tapes?"

"The first four shelves are sales tapes." Cody looked lower. "How about Clash of the Titans?"

"Sure." He would have agreed to anything, just to get Cody to stop and come and sit down.

He only barely remembered the movie. It was one of Murray's favorites, and that brought a tinge of sadness. Cody sat close to him, holding his hand, and they watched the first half of the movie quietly. Then his hip started to ache, and he ended up lying down with his head on Cody's thigh. Cody rubbed his back and shoulder, his touch warm and light, and he sighed. _This is the good life._

The flying horse effect was as cheesy as he'd remembered. Still, it made him wish that he was up there in the sky, piloting Mimi. _I will be soon enough. This is only a temporary grounding._ He'd be in the sky again, enjoying the feel of the controls in his hands. Even better, he could arrange for a less punishing schedule, and set up gigs when he wanted to, instead of nearly every single day.

It occurred to him that, had it not been for the chance meeting with Cody at Tammi's party, right now he would be even more destitute than he had been. _The Bologna Diet would have looked like a Roman feast, in comparison. I would have been living out of a cardboard box._

He owed so much to Cody. He closed his eyes. _I would have gotten through it somehow._

 _And I probably would have ended up panhandling in the streets._

He shivered, and Cody's hand stilled on his back. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," said Nick quietly.

"What…what are you thinking about?"

"Just…luck."

"Luck?"

"If I hadn't run into you at that party…"

Cody's body tensed underneath him. "I feel like such a jerk about that."

"Don't." Nick squeezed his knee. "Cody, we were both…jerks. Don't feel guilty about it."

"I can't help it. When I saw you fall…" It was Cody's turn to shiver, and Nick sat up and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

"It all worked out okay." He gave him a meaningful look. "We're together. I mean, I never thought that would happen again, but it did, and that stuff—it's all in the past."

"It's in the past, but it…" Cody seemed to struggle for words. "It affects us, even now. I pushed you, Nick, and you fell, and you had to have…you had to have surgery, and then…" He looked away, the guilt on his face overwhelming.

"You know that I probably would have had to have surgery anyway, right?" Nick kissed his jaw. "And without that fall, I would have waited too long and it would have been a lot worse." He kissed his neck. "Don't carry this guilt around, man." Cody turned and caught his lips against his own, sweet and gentle, and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

When they broke the kiss, Cody rested his forehead against Nick's. "I'm sorry."

"I know. You've said it. I've said it. It's all okay, Cody, it really is."

Cody breathed, in, out, and then nodded. "Yeah."

"I think we missed the end of the movie."

Cody gave a weak chuckle at that. "I know how it ends already."

Nick kissed him, soft, reassuring. He murmured words of love, kissing him again, until Cody finally relaxed, until the tension left him entirely.

 _This has been hell on both of us._ Cody touched his face tentatively, looking at him with a vulnerable expression in his eyes. "I love you."

Nick pressed a kiss to his cheekbone. "Love you, too."

They watched another movie, a generic action flick, and then it was time to turn in for the night. Nick got in bed first, yawning, and Cody climbed in, wrapping himself around Nick. The warmth of his body felt good against him, though it was a little strange; he'd always been the one doing the holding, in years past. He remembered lying in Cody's bunk, keeping Cody between him and the wall, keeping him safe. It was different now, but it felt…right. Plus, he was cold.

Cody's fingers stroked his belly, entwining in his fur. It felt wonderful. He drifted off to sleep, contented.

* * *

The chopper was in Nick's hands, listing alarmingly to port, and he tried to change course but it wasn't responding. Fear scrabbled up his spine, and he clenched his teeth, pulling on the controls desperately. _No, no, this can't be happening--_

The hills were below him, trees and rocks sticking up like teeth. He battled with the cyclic but it was no use. He knew it in his very bones; the chopper was going down.

No parachute. Nothing to help, and he had no time. It all seemed so familiar as the helo hurtled toward the side of the hill. He braced himself, gauging how it would hit, where the tail would swing, and then he jumped out just before the impact. He was falling forever, the rocks coming up to meet him, wind whistling through his ears.

The impact shattered him, and he broke into a thousand pieces, screaming in pain. It hurt like nothing had before. There was nothing but a vast, empty wasteland, cold and bleak, no end in sight, and he was completely broken, nothing left but agony—

"Nick, wake up!"

Cody's shout reached him, and he opened his eyes to find himself sitting up in bed, Cody holding him, looking completely panicked. Nick shuddered and Cody pulled him closer yet, comforting him as he sobbed into his shoulder. "I broke, Cody. I broke, and there wasn't…I was…"

"You didn't break, Nick," said Cody gently. "You're here, you're here with me, and you're not broken."

"It was so real." Nick felt cold down to his bones. "I hit the mountain and…" He choked back another sob.

"You hit the mountain, and you didn't break, Nick." Cody's voice was fierce. "You never broke. You're here, and you're not broken."

Nick held on to Cody, letting the last of the fright and desperation wash over him. Slowly the cold began to fade away, being replaced by Cody's warmth. The tension inside him gave, and he relaxed into Cody's arms, let him soothe away the final vestiges of the dream.

"You're not broken," repeated Cody. "You've walked through the fire, Nick. You're stronger than you've ever been."

When he fell asleep again, he dreamed of the sky, of flying through clouds, of holding Cody in his arms.


	13. Chapter 13

Sunday turned out to be a day of rest. Nick woke to the smell of bacon and eggs, and was pleasantly surprised to find out that it was real, actual bacon. Cody made good on his promise to stay home the whole weekend, and didn't touch a listings book or even make a phone call.

In fact, Cody found a way to stick next to Nick's side through the entire day. Nick noticed that no matter what he was doing—except trips to the bathroom—Cody was within eyesight. _Must be because of the bad dream last night._ It was comforting in a very real way, and by the evening, the leftover feelings from the nightmare had simply melted away, banished by Cody's presence.

They spent a half hour in the shower after dinner. Cody washed Nick's hair, ignoring his protests, and Nick had to admit that it felt nice. They got into bed, both smelling of Cody's exotic body wash.

"I have to work tomorrow," said Cody, tracing a light pattern across his ribs. "And Tuesday I'm supposed to meet with Brian Clark. And Michele won't be in…"

"I'll be fine," said Nick.

"I'll try to come home for lunch."

"Don't push it. This is a new client, right?"

"Well, yes…both days."

"I'll be fine. Just do your thing."

"I wanted to spend Tuesday with you, but this was the only time Clark could meet with me." Cody looked frustrated, and Nick couldn't understand why.

"It's no problem, Cody, seriously."

"We'll have the evening together, though." Cody smiled, and his touch turned inward, lightly stroking his belly before descending to his cock.

Nick shivered and drew closer, reaching out for Cody's hipbone and then moving to his ass, feeling the delicious swell of flesh. "We have tonight already…" he murmured.

Cody kissed him, hot and electric, sending sparks of desire to his cock. Hard already, he moaned into the kiss when he felt Cody's cock against his own.

"I want to try something," said Cody, breaking off the kiss a little breathlessly. "Lie on your back."

Reluctantly, Nick took his hands away and rolled onto his back. Cody leaned forward and licked his cock, one hot, liquid stripe that made him arch his back. "Hey—"

"You don't like it?" said Cody slyly.

"I want us both to—"

"Don't worry, we will." Cody licked again, and then swirled his tongue around the head of Nick's cock, making him groan.

"Cody—"

"Still impatient, I see."

"If you keep this up, I'm gonna explode."

Cody laughed. "That's the point, right?"

Nick made a frustrated noise, but then he realized that Cody was on his hands and knees, one knee close to his shoulder, and he realized what Cody wanted. "C'mon, already."

Carefully, Cody positioned himself, knees on either side of Nick's head, and Nick pulled his hips down, guiding his cock until he could return the favor, licking the head and causing Cody to gasp. Cody redoubled his efforts, sucking Nick right down to the root, and Nick refused to let him gain the upper hand, taking him in as far as he could, letting his tongue run up and down the length.

They'd rarely sixty-nined in the past, but Nick found he liked it. He had an advantage over Cody in that his hands were partially free; he needed one hand to keep his hips in the right position, but that left the other, and he put it to good use, taking his balls in hand and stroking them the way he knew Cody liked. Cody moaned, letting his cock slide out of his mouth. Nick grinned. _One point to me._

Eventually they established a rhythm, Cody pumping into his mouth while sucking Nick like he was on fire. Nick felt his balls tightening, and sucked in earnest, swirling his tongue around the shaft. It was incredible, the hot wet mouth pulling on his cock while he sucked at the cock in his mouth, and he couldn't last long. He exploded into Cody with a weak cry, just as Cody's hips suddenly bucked, and his mouth was flooded with the bitter, familiar taste of him.

A few last sucks, and then Cody was rolling over, away from him, panting. "God, that was good."

Nick turned his head and pressed a kiss to Cody's hipbone. "Incredible."

After Cody got his breathing under control, he pulled Nick into his arms, kissing him thoroughly, each with the taste of each other still on their tongues. Nick felt boneless and deliciously sated; he could barely keep his eyes open, and eventually Cody pulled the covers over them and turned off the lights, and Nick went to sleep.

\------------------------------

Nick was barely up in time for breakfast, and Cody left right after they ate, wanting to pick his client up on time.

 _So now what?_ Nick sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, switching channels until he could watch the weather. Sunny but cool. Only a light breeze. Good day for flying. He sighed and turned it off.

The house seemed big and empty. He didn't feel like reading and he wasn't really interested in watching How To Stage Houses To Their Best Advantage; nor did he want to sit in the backyard.

He poked around in the kitchen, wondering if there were enough ingredients for him to make dinner. There was a package of fresh pasta, and some fixings for sauce. He shut the door to the fridge and noticed that the trash can was sitting in the middle of the floor, full. _Cody must have forgotten to take it out._

Finding a new bag under the sink, he pulled out the old one and went out into the garage, stashing it in the big rolling bin. On his way back in, his eye fell upon Cody's motorcycle, still sitting half-disassembled next to the workbench.

It was an Indian, late sixties, early seventies. Deke had owned a similar one in high school and they'd spent hours tinkering with her. He stood still for a moment, just looking at her, remembering the drives they'd taken, the fantasies they'd built, the dates they'd scared.

A mostly intact brake caliper sat on the workbench. Next to it was a carburetor, completely in pieces. Nick knew instinctively that Cody had gotten frustrated with it; they were a lot trickier than calipers.

He padded over to the bench and looked it over. There was dust on the surface, and he began to clean it off, using paper towels and water from the sink. The workspace was impressive. Just like the kitchen, the garage workshop was laid out beautifully, with everything anyone could want. There was even a piece of carpet on the ground in front of the bench.

It just didn't seem right to leave the counter half-cleaned. He set to work, and within a half hour he had the entire workbench wiped down, the parts cleaned off, and he'd even scrubbed the sink.

It wasn't time for lunch yet. He kept looking at the carburetor, guessing how the pieces fit, and finally he reached out and started arranging the parts around it. _Might as well make it easier for him._

He couldn't just leave it, though. _Well, it's not like I have any pressing social engagements…_ He snorted and then pulled the stool over, leaning against it while he turned the carburetor over in his hand. _I'll just get it started._

There was a cabinet with a set of rags in it, and he pulled a few out and began to tinker. It took him three tries to find the right screwdriver. The job was complicated, as he expected. _I'm surprised Cody didn't buy one of the newer fuel-injected bikes._

Amazing how the smell took him back twenty-eight years, how the feel of the carb in his hand made him feel like a teenager again; he half-expected to hear Deke's mom yelling at them to clean up their junk.

 _Poor Deke. Never got a fair shake._ He sighed, thinking of him, of how his desperate need for approval had given him so much grief. Deke had hated football, but his dad had been a quarterback and was pretty fanatical about sports so Deke had to try out. That's where they'd met. Deke always tried so hard to please, tried to make Beeber his friend, tried to make his father love him, tried to clown around so that everyone would like him.

They were inseparable during high school. They spent all their free time together, throwing a football around, sneaking into drive-in movies, occasionally surfing.

Then it had all changed. Deke wasn't drafted; Nick was. In 'Nam, Nick had sent him a couple letters, but never got a reply.

And then he'd met Cody Allen and found out what friendship and love was all about.

The carburetor was coming together nicely, especially after he'd unclogged the needle jet, and he grinned as he sank another screw into it. _Haven't lost my touch._ Working on Mimi had always kept his skills in top shape; she was a tricky beast to keep in the air. People talked about poetry, and pretty words, but this was the real poetry to him; a screwdriver, a piece of machinery, and his hands.

The mechanism for the garage door suddenly engaged, and he nearly dropped the screwdriver. Cody pulled in, and stared at him as he got out of the Caddy. "Nick?"

"You came home for lunch?" asked Nick. "That's great."

"Lunch? Are you crazy?" Cody frowned. "Nick, it's nearly five o'clock."

"What?" Nick blinked. _Damn. So much for making dinner._ He put the carburetor down.

"What are you doing?"

"I was taking out the trash, and I saw the carb, and thought you might like some help with it." He wiped his hands off on a rag.

"I…" Cody looked confused. "I'd planned on restoring her myself."

"Oh. Sorry. I was just cleaning the bench off, and I kind of got carried away."

"Well…honestly, it was more complicated than I thought. I probably would have had to hire someone to fix it." Cody's eyes narrowed. "Wait…you didn't have lunch, did you? You've been out here all day."

"Yeah," said Nick sheepishly. He went to stand up, and his hip sparked fire. He winced and grabbed at the counter.

Cody was there in a heartbeat, one arm around his waist. "You should have taken a break. Or two. Or three—"

"I know." He breathed a couple times and eased his leg into a different position. "It's okay. I'm just a little stiff." He waited for the pain to die down, and then took an experimental step. "See? I'm fine. Just sat in one place for too long."

"Okay," said Cody, sounding unconvinced. "Come inside. And next time, turn on the heater, at least. It's cold in here."

Nick washed his hands in the kitchen, scrubbing off the grime, and then took a pill and gingerly sat down at the table, watching as Cody pulled pans out of the cabinet. "So how did today go?"

"Pretty good," said Cody. "Charles seems like a great guy. He's got a pretty good business built up, and he's fairly organized. He had a list of all the features he's interested in, and the properties he's looked at before." He opened the fridge and took out the pasta. "I showed him three different houses, and he seemed to like the first one. On Thursday we'll meet up again and he'll bring Don."

"Don?"

"His partner." Cody filled a pot with water, setting it on the range, and turned the gas flame on high. He poured sauce from a jar into a saucepot, and set that on another burner.

 _Next time, I'll just make the sauce._ "I was thinking of making a grocery list," he said casually.

Cody was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Okay."

"Or I could just—"

"No." Cody seemed to tense over entirely. "Just…not yet, okay? You just got out of the rehab facility."

"Okay," relented Nick. "Fine. So…you have a pasta maker?"

"No." Cody fiddled with the range, changing the flame. "But Grasch's has great fresh pasta."

"That's good." He rubbed the back of his neck. "How about a grater?"

"A few of them. Bottom drawer."

"Whetstone?"

"Yes. And a sharpening steel—"

"I saw that. Nice set of knives, by the way." _Probably worth more than the rent on my apartment._

"Thanks. Henckel & Sons make the best knives. I always liked to…" He paused. "I like to get the best."

Nick wondered what he'd almost said. "Yeah."

"By the way, the physical therapist was supposed to be here tomorrow at ten. She called and—"

"What physical therapist?"

"The one who's going to come over twice a week for the next four weeks."

"But—"

"You can't drive yet, and there are times I can't take you to appointments. Like tomorrow."

"Tammi—"

"Nick, it's already set up," said Cody, sounding exasperated. He took a spoon from a drawer and stirred the sauce. "She'll be here tomorrow, but she said she might be a few minutes late. Her name is Rhonda."

"Rhonda. Okay." He let his hand fall to his lap. "I'm just warning you, Cody, the insurance company's probably not going to cover anything. And the VA won't like paying extra for in-home care."

"I don't care," said Cody with finality. He took the lid off the large stockpot and peered in.

"It's not going to boil faster if you keep looking at it." Nick crossed his arms.

Cody dropped the lid back on. "I know."

"Need any help?"

"No." Cody came over, close enough that Nick could smell his aftershave, and bent down and gave him a kiss, quick and sloppy. He went back to the counter and started cutting up lettuce and tomatoes. "By the way, I talked to Tim yesterday."

"Oh yeah? How's he doing?"

"He ended up helping Sheila move out."

"Damn."

"Yes, exactly. I told him he was making a big mistake."

"And he probably told you he had to work this out on his own. Get his karma back in balance."

"That's pretty much what he said." He filled two bowls with lettuce and then slid the diced tomatoes on top. "He said he had to help her."

"That's his choice."

"I know."

"Cody, you gotta let it be. Tim'll be okay."

"Sure." Cody didn't sound convinced.

Dinner was as good as a bottled sauce could be, though Nick wished for a nice glass of wine to go with it. There were breadsticks, and for dessert they split a piece of tiramisu. Grasch's, of course, and Nick had to admit that it was delicious.

After dinner, Cody pulled out his listing books and began to prep for his meeting with Clark. Nick idly flipped through the channels and decided there wasn't anything on that was really worth watching.

Later, as they were getting in bed, Cody kissed him and pulled him close. "I was going to sell the motorcycle," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"I haven't even had time to look at it in the past month." Cody's hand glided along his ribcage. "And…"

"And what?" said Nick, not liking where this was going.

"And I just don't think I'll be riding much."

"You love to ride." _Almost as much as you love the sea._ "I'll get it in shape, and then you'll show me your new moves."

Cody laughed. "My best moves are right here, in this bed." He looked Nick in the eyes, and then gave him a passionate kiss which made his toes curl.

 _Helluva way to change the subject._ Nick went along with it, giving as good as he got, but there was a nagging feeling of unease in the back of his head.

Cody held him close as he fell asleep, and Nick was relieved to find that the previous night's bad dream had faded away entirely. He slept soundly.

\---------------------------

Nick entered the kitchen the next morning, and inhaled the scent of eggs…and steak. Surprised, he looked at the range, where a strip steak was cooking in a pan.

"Good morning," said Cody. He was dressed in pants and his silk dress shirt was half unbuttoned.

"Any morning with a steak involved is a good morning," said Nick, taking a seat at the table. "What time are you supposed to meet with Clark?"

"Eleven." Cody set a fried egg on his plate with a spatula. A whole fried egg.

Nick stared at the egg, almost afraid it was a trick. "Eleven, huh?" He gave him a grin. "Just enough time to—"

Cody's phone chirped on the counter, and he grabbed it. "Cody Allen speaking." There was a pause. "Yes, hello, Alex, I remember you. How are y—" He frowned. "Now? Uh—yes, I can be there. I'll see you in a few minutes. Thanks for the call." He hung up and cursed.

"What's up?"

"That was Alex, Clark's assistant." He looked panicked and grabbed his suit coat from the back of the chair. "I have to run. They want me there now. I'll see you this afternoon, okay? I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you." He gave Nick a hurried kiss. "Remember, the physical therapist will be here around ten. And your steak's almost done. Love you."

"Love you, too." Nick watched as he dashed out the door, hands full of paperwork.

The steak was slightly overdone, but it didn't matter; it was delicious. He ate most of it and put the leftovers back in the fridge.

At three minutes past ten, the doorbell rang. It was the physical therapist, who introduced herself as Rhonda. She was efficient and only spoke to give him direction. After a brisk workout, and exercises in the pool, she packed up her gear and left.

He took a long, hot shower and then sat down in the living room and turned on the weather channel. The conditions were perfect for flying, and felt the familiar itch to get in the pilot's seat again.

The phone rang, and he crossed the room to get it. "Hello?"

"Hi," said Cody. "How are you feeling? Did the therapist show up?"

"Great. Yes. Everything's fine. Nothing's on fire."

"Okay." He paused and dropped his voice. "I don't think I'll be home until three. Maybe four—" There was a voice in the background, and Cody made a barely audible sigh. "Talk to you later."

"Bye. Love you." Nick hung up.

Lunch was the leftover steak, and an apple he found in the bottom drawer. He debated going out and finishing putting the carburetor back together, but then the phone rang. "Hello," he said, expecting Cody, but it was Tammi, and she began singing "Happy Birthday" to him.

"I didn't realize," he said, surprised.

"You forgot your own birthday?" She started laughing.

"Well, I've been a little preoccupied…"

"I know." She giggled. "Still, it's funny. I wonder what Cody has planned?"

Cody's guilt over working that day suddenly made sense. "No clue."

"Of course not. You didn't even know it was your birthday." She sounded happy. "So…guess what?"

"What?"

"I signed a lease this morning. A lease!"

"Tammi's Taquitos is finally going to become a reality?"

"No, silly, the yoga studio! Cody helped me find a great space. It's just beautiful. There are lots of windows. It's perfect."

"That's great, Tammi."

"It was an exercise club, and it closed, and half the building was turned into a bookstore. The other half is floor to ceiling windows! It's perfect. You can see a little bit of the ocean. I have a few instructors, and Eric bought me a computer to keep track of everything. He's so sweet. I can't wait to start!"

"Who's going to run your front counter? Answer your phones?"

"You won't believe this, but Gwennie wants to! She said she wanted to get out of the house, and Mom—my mother-in-law—will watch the kids. You know, she used to work as a receptionist…"

"I remember."

"And I have two friends signed up to teach. I'll do most of the teaching at first, of course. I've worked on a postcard, and Kinko's is printing it…Nick, I can't wait! This is going to be so amazing."

He chuckled. "Sounds great. You've really got this thing figured out."

"Well, I don't know...I remember what you always used to say about the detective agency. How there was always something unexpected around every corner; sometimes bad, sometimes good."

"Yeah, but I doubt anyone will be shooting at you while you're teaching yoga."

"Of course not, but I wasn't talking about that. Just the little things. Like running out of stamps, or someone printing an article that makes you sound like a moron…"

"Don't remind me, okay?"

She giggled. "I was just kidding. Anyway, I've got so much to do. I'm so sorry, Nick, I was hoping to see you today, but I have to meet with the painters, and there are new light switches to install, and about a million other things…"

"Tammi, it's no problem. And remember, I can help out, too. You just let me know."

"I will." She paused. "And don't think I won't take you up on that. I have a million labels to stick on postcards, you know."

He groaned. "I said I'd do anything, I'll do anything."

"I hope you have a wonderful day," she said sweetly. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Sure thing. Bye."

"Bye, Nick."

He hung up with a smile on his face. Tammi was a little flighty sometimes, but he really thought she had a chance at doing well. There weren't any other yoga studios in downtown King Harbor, and she had a lot of drive.

Sunlight poured through the front windows, and Nick stared out at the street. _My birthday, huh? Can't believe I forgot about it._ He frowned. Something nagged him about the date. Something he should have done.

It hit him. _My driver's license._ He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, frustrated. _I can't believe I forgot._

If he didn't get down to the DMV, it would expire that day. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way around it, but he couldn't think of anything else but to go in person and renew it. There was no use waiting for Cody; the office might close before Cody got home.

He headed for Cody's office and pulled the renewal form out of the stack of paperwork on his desk. His wallet was there, too, and he grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket.

Then it struck him. He had no idea where his car was.

 _Damn._

He could call a cab, of course. But he didn't have any cash and he didn't feel right about hunting through Cody's things to find any, much less take it. He'd have to hit the bank first, and if the line was long, he'd have to send the first one away and then call another cab. Same with the DMV.

 _Cody does have two vehicles…_ He opened the door into the garage. The Yukon was still there. Grabbing the keys from the table next to the door, he walked across the garage and got in.

He hesitated before he put the keys in the ignition. _Cody's going to kill me._ He sat for a long moment. _But it's just a short trip, and if I don't, my license will expire…_

 _I'll be back before he knows it._ He hit the button on the garage door opener and started the truck.

The line at the bank was mercifully short, and he withdrew enough money to cover the renewal and a little more besides. Back on the road, he felt the ache starting in his hip. _Hopefully the line at the DMV isn't long._

Unfortunately, it _was_ long. He sighed and stood behind a woman wearing a leopard-print outfit. He checked his watch. _Two o'clock. Wonder if Cody's been calling…_

After fifteen minutes, only four people from the line had been served. He leaned a little more heavily on his cane.

Fifteen more minutes passed, and only three new people had been waited on. The ache in his hip grew sharper. The leopard-print woman bounced a little, clearly bored. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a smile. He smiled back.

Another clerk came out of the back and opened a window, and the line began to move slightly faster. Still, it took another forty-five minutes before leopard-print woman was called up to the counter.

His hip ached incessantly. He knew he couldn't stand for much longer and was relieved when one of the clerks waved him over. She was a perky older blond with a friendly smile. "What can I do for you?" She wore a leaf-shaped nametag that read "Nancy."

"I need to renew my license," he said. He leaned his cane carefully against the counter, and braced himself with his other hand as he dug the paperwork out of his back pocket.

"Hmm." Nancy looked over the renewal form. "It expires today! You waited until the last minute, I see." She waggled her finger at him, the smile never leaving her face. “And Happy Birthday, by the way.

"Yeah," he said, trying his best to smile back at her. “Thanks.”

"Has there been a change in address?"

He blinked. "Uh…yeah. Yeah, you're right, I did…kind of move."

She gave him a funny look. "Okay, then. You'll have to give us your…'kind of' address." She handed him a form and a pen.

He wrote down the street and number of Cody's address, and then stopped. "Uh, I don't know the zip code."

"Oh, that's all right, I'll look it up. You must have just moved."

"Yeah, it's still pretty new."

Walking over to the backdrop for the photo was painful, but he managed, like he always did. _Bend, don't break. Almost done._ Nancy said something cute and cheesy, and he smiled while she took the picture, and then he went back to her counter, where she took his money.

"You'll get your new license in four to six weeks," she told him. One of the other clerks walked behind her and gave him the onceover.

"You always get the good ones," she said in a stage whisper.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Sheryl." She handed Nick his license, which was now stapled to a piece of paper, and he stuffed it in his back pocket.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Ryder," she said cheerfully.

"Same to you," he said. He walked, slow and careful, getting into the Yukon and just sitting still, hoping it would help with the pain. It wasn't as bad as it would have been without the surgery, but between the physical therapy and the waiting in line, he knew he'd really overdone it.

The drive back was quick. The neighborhood was quiet, and he almost turned down the wrong street because they all looked so similar.

The garage door was up, and he felt a momentary stab of panic that maybe he'd left it open, but then he saw the Caddy. _Busted._ He pulled in and opened the door, taking a deep breath before swinging his legs over to the side so he could keep the weight on his right foot when he got out.

He heard the door that led into the house slam, and looked up to see Cody staring at him. Nick felt a horrible rush of guilt when he saw the fright in Cody's eyes. _I really fucked it up this time._

Cody crossed the garage in a run, wrapping his arm around his waist and helping him back into the house. They walked slowly, and Cody didn't say a word, the tension clearly visible in his jaw

"I'm sorry, Cody. I mean it, man. I know I really messed up."

Cody didn't even look at him, just supported him as they crossed the room to one of the recliners. Slow and easy, Nick sat down, wincing, eyes closed as he waited for the flash of pain to fade. He felt Cody handing him pills, and he opened his eyes, popping the pills in his mouth and taking a swig of water from the offered glass.

"Thanks," he said. Cody put the glass down in the kitchen and then came back out, sitting on the arm of the recliner. "Look, my driver's license was gonna expire today, and I just wanted to get down to the DMV. I thought it'd be quick, y'know? I thought I'd get back and it wouldn't be a big deal."

Cody gave him a quick nod, but his jaw was still tight.

"C'mon, baby, I'm sorry," said Nick. "Last thing I wanted to do was make you mad."

"I'm not mad," said Cody quietly. Nick looked closely at him. He seemed frightened. Upset.

"Cody," he said gently, "you don't have to worry about me. I wasn't leaving you. I'm not going to leave you. Really."

"I know." Cody's voice was barely audible.

Nick was confused. _What's the problem, then?_ He took Cody's hand into his own and looked deep into his blue eyes, seeing fear and pain.

Realization sunk in. "Cody, I'm okay. I'm here." He squeezed his hand.

Cody exhaled and looked away. "I just…don't like it when you're gone."

"I know. But you have to let me go."

"Jake…"

Guilt rose inside of him. "I know, baby, I know it hurts."

Cody blinked and then blinked again. His hand trembled. "If I lost you…"

"Nobody knows what's going to happen next, Cody." Nick stroked the back of his hand with his free hand. "But that doesn't mean that we stop living the life we have. I'm going to drive cars, and pilot choppers, and maybe even ride on the back of a motorcycle. You're going to have to accept that."

"I'm just…" Cody took a shaky breath. "It scares me. I remember Jake, in the hospital…"

"There’s risk in everything," said Nick gently. "In _everything_. Even in eating a can of tuna. We can't stop living, okay?"

He took a deep breath. "Okay. But…it might take some time…to adjust."

"I know." Nick grinned at him. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

"So," said Nick, leaning back. "Where's my car?"

Cody took another deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Taylor has it in storage. We can sign over the title to someone, if you want, or we can donate it to charity…"

"One of the vets'll need it. Taylor'll know who."

"Did you like driving the Yukon?"

"Yeah, it's great. Pedals are soft, though."

"I'll keep driving the Cadillac, then, and you can…drive the Yukon." There was only a little hesitation, and Nick gave his hand another squeeze.

"Sounds great, man. So what's for dinner?"

Cody smiled. "How about a steak from Parkville West?"

"Where's my jacket? Let's go."

"Not so fast." Cody gave him a look. "You're taking it easy tonight. I'll go pick it up."

"Okay, fine." His hip still ached, a deep-seated painful ache, and he sighed in relief as Cody brought out an ice pack before he left.

They ate dinner in the recliners in front of the TV. Cody had rented a Helen Howell movie, one of Nick's favorites, and he relaxed, letting the painkillers and the ice do their work. The movie was even better than he remembered, and he waited for his favorite part, where she thwarted the Confederate soldiers' plot and revealed her true identity as a Union spy.

His eyelids were getting heavier. He watched as she set fire to the wagon, and then everything seemed to blur together.

"C'mon, you look like you're ready for bed," said Cody.

"Hmm?" Nick blinked and rubbed his eyes. "But the movie…"

"The movie's been over for a half hour. You've been snoring." Cody helped Nick up out of the chair, and Nick stood, swaying, his hip protesting. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little sore." Nick gritted his teeth, and the pain finally died down. "Some hot date I turned out to be."

Cody chuckled. "Hottest date I've ever seen. Come on, it's bedtime."

It turned out that bedtime really meant bedtime, and Nick tried not to get too disappointed. Then again, he was too tired for much else beyond a kiss or two. The lights went out and Cody's body was wrapped around him, and he realized it was the best birthday he'd had in years.

\---------------------------

The next morning, Nick spent a very pleasurable hour in the shower with Cody. After toweling off, they both got dressed, and Cody made egg white omelets for both of them. Orange juice and toast, plus fresh raspberries. _The table looks like one of those "balanced breakfast" ads._ Still, it tasted good. He was even getting used to the protein powder in the orange juice.

After he was finished eating, he sat back and sighed, rubbing his stomach. "That was great. Thanks."

"Of course." Cody got up and put the dirty plates in the sink. "I was thinking that tonight we might go out and get some Thai food. There's a great place that just opened in Hermosa Beach."

Hermosa Beach wasn't that far away, in truth, but Nick was surprised. _Maybe last night's conversation really registered._ "Sure. Date night, huh?"

"And I'm buying dinner, so you know what that means…" Cody gave him a lascivious look. There was a knock at the door. "I'll get it." He crossed the kitchen and opened the door. "Michele? You have a key…"

"I thought you might want me not want me to walk right in," said Michele quietly. She looked tense.

"Well, uh…"

"I'll get right to work on the new listings," she said, heading for the hallway.

"Morning," said Nick as she passed by. She gave him a nod, but didn't meet his eyes, and disappeared around the corner.

Cody sighed and closed the door. "I hoped she would have forgiven me by now."

"She was probably picking out wedding china, buddy." Nick drained the last of his orange juice. "Even if it was just in her head. They don't forgive you that quick after that."

"I think she's only working a half day today," said Cody. "I'll just go get her set up with some work, and I have to work on a few new places for Clark to see…"

"Do your thing, man. No problem. I'm going to finish the carb."

Cody opened his mouth as if to protest, but seemed to think better of it. "Just remember to turn on the heater. It's cold out today."

"Fine." Nick limped out into the garage.

It _was_ cool in the garage. The space heater made it bearable, though, and he quickly grew engrossed in the intricacies of the carburetor. After an hour, he'd finished putting it together, and he set to work on the brake calipers, fine-tuning them and checking them. Satisfied, he left everything on the bench, and washed his hands.

Back in the house, everything was quiet, and he sat down and watched a little TV.

Cody came out in the middle of _the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ , and watched it with him for a little while. A commercial came on, and he reached over and took the controller, muting the sound. "I talked to Clark, and I'm going to show them a property this afternoon," he said. "Michele has a big test to prep for, and she's going to leave around noon. So you'll be on your own until dinner."

"Sure. I can entertain myself, don't worry."

"Are you going to…"

"Nah, I'll stay home. The Thai place will be excitement enough." He grinned when Cody looked relieved. _Baby steps first._

The movie came back on, and Cody hit the sound button. They watched the last of it, and then Cody went into the kitchen to make lunch.

"Goodbye, Mr. Allen," said Michele. Her jacket was on and she had her car keys out.

"Bye, Michele. Good luck with the test."

"Thank you, Mr. Allen."

"Bye, Michele," said Nick.

Michele turned to look at him, and Nick could see the hurt she was trying to hide. "Goodbye, Mr. Ryder," she said quietly, and then she was out the door.

"Don't worry," said Nick, noticing the troubled expression on Cody's face. "She'll be fine."

Cody only nodded.

Lunch was simple, just grilled chicken and steamed vegetables and baked potatoes, and then Cody changed into a suit. A kiss, a quick embrace, and then he was out the door.

Nick took a look at the kitchen, the dirty dishes in the sink, the cutting board on the counter with carrot ends all over it, and set to work cleaning. He ran a load of dishes and poked around in all of the cabinets, checking where Cody kept everything. The organization was fairly efficient, though he'd rather have the spices on a lower shelf.

Cody's coffee maker sat on the counter, tempting him until he finally couldn't take it any longer. There was no ground coffee anywhere, just beans, and he nearly growled until he realized the grinder was just behind the coffee maker. He made a pot of coffee, inhaling the heavenly scent.

He watched the end of _Pale Rider_ while he drank a cup. It was smooth, delicious coffee, and he felt utterly content.

Just after the credits rolled, the phone rang, and he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Nick?"

"Yeah, this is Nick."

"This is Derek. Don't hang up. _Please._ "

It was the "please" that stopped him. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Something's going down. Something bad." Derek sounded frightened.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "What? What's going on?"

"It's Cody. And my father. I'm in the Valley—"

"If anything happens to Cody—"

"That's why I'm calling!" said Derek, sounding annoyed. "Just listen, okay? I just got off the phone with my father. He's at a warehouse right now, one of the warehouses down at the pier. He's meeting with Cody."

Cody. Warehouse. Nick grabbed onto the kitchen counter with one hand and tried not to shout into the phone. "Why is he meeting with Cody?"

"I don't know. He wasn't making any sense."

"Why are you calling me and not the police?"

"No way! I can't call the cops on my father!" Derek sounded truly panicked now. "You have to stop it. You're closer. I can't get there fast enough."

"Cody can take care of himself." A sense of unease prickled under his skin. _Why didn't he call me?_

"No, you don't understand! My father has a gun!"

Nick's blood ran cold. "I'm calling the cops."

" _No_!" said Derek. "Nick, you just—listen, I'm "

"Which warehouse? Which pier?" demanded Nick.

"My father—I don't think he'd really use the gun. He'll listen to reason, I know it, you just have to get there soon. He's pissed at Cody. You just need to talk to him—talk him out of this. He stopped answering his phone—"

" _Which warehouse?_ " shouted Nick.

There was a pause. "Warehouse three."

Nick tossed the phone on the table and took off, grabbing the keys as he went into the garage. He picked up the car phone and dialed Cody's cell phone number. It went straight to his voicemail.

His tension level grew as he got closer to the docks. _This could be a trick. Derek could be waiting for me. Cody'll never forgive me if I walked straight into a trap…_

There was still a chance that it wasn't. That Cody was in real danger. In the end, that was all that mattered.

Cursing, he called the King Harbor police department and asked for Lieutenant Carlisle.   
Carlisle had been Quinlan's partner for a year, and helped them with cases after Parisi left. He was a trustworthy guy with a level head. As quickly as Nick could, he explained the situation, and he was relieved when he agreed to help.

The warehouse was in sight, and Nick drew as close as he dared and shut off the engine. The Caddy was there, along with a BMW. _Wish I had a gun._ His stomach twisted in fear as he got out of the Yukon.

They'd been to this warehouse before. A case with smuggled diamonds over a decade ago. He remembered the layout, and he went in through a side door as quickly as he could.

He heard two voices echoing in the air. The warehouse was huge, light filtering in through high windows. Barrels and debris were piled everywhere. He swallowed heavily, remembering Suresh dying on a concrete floor like this one. _Get it together. Cody needs you._

Cody stood in the open, hands lifted up. A man with silver hair held a gun on him. A revolver, it looked like, though Nick only had time for a quick glance before ducking down behind a barrel. His hip protested at the maneuver.

"You haven't thought this through, Gerald," said Cody. "People will wonder what happened. The police will wonder what happened."

"No one will have any idea," said Gerald coldly. "I'll throw your body in the ocean, and they'll think you were the victim of a mugging, or a gang attack."

It took all of Nick's willpower not to charge him, not to knock him to the ground and beat him senseless. _Wouldn't work, anyway._ He swallowed again and tried to figure out a plan.

"Gangs don't throw their victims in the ocean," said Cody, sounding only a little bit desperate. "Just think about it. The police will be suspicious."

 _Barrels everywhere. Good cover._ He scanned the area. _Just gotta hold out till the cops get here._

"The police will find out about you and your _tendencies_ , and they'll stop investigating," said Gerald.

"Gerald, you know that's not true," said Cody evenly. "I have friends on the police force. I was a private investigator, remember? They won't stop until they find my killer."

If he could just get Cody behind some cover, they might be able to work with that. There was a large bank of barrels near Cody. _With a little luck…maybe a lot of luck…_

He crept across the floor, trying to be as quiet as possible. A white-hot flash of pain tore through his hip, but he ignored it. There was a rusty metal prybar on the floor, and he picked it up. Another five feet closer. And another. He was behind a large jumble of rotting wooden crates.

 _Have to time it just right._

He'd always had a good arm for throwing, and he prayed fervently that he'd be able to manage this crucial shot. He got into position.

"It doesn't matter," said Gerald. "They'll never imagine it's me."

"That's right," said Cody. "First, they'll investigate Derek."

"You—"

Nick came out from behind the crates and pitched the prybar with all his might, while tackling Cody and knocking him down behind the barrels he'd chosen for cover.

The prybar struck Gerald high on the shoulder, and he squeezed off a few rounds while cursing. Nick felt a burning pain cross his left arm and he struggled to get Cody behind the cover. His hip was on fire and he couldn't move fast enough. Cody grabbed him and pulled him bodily behind the barrels.

"I have a gun," said Gerald angrily. "This is pointless."

"So come and get us," yelled Nick.

There was only silence. Gerald had three possible routes: a direct assault from their left, a roundabout sneak attack from the right, or a trip outside the warehouse which would bring him up behind them. Nick looked at Cody, and made a gesture with his hand, and Cody countered with a different gesture. Finally they worked out their wordless plan, and Cody took off on the right, staying low as he made his way around the barrels. _Just like old times._

"The police are on their way," said Nick loudly. "You don't stand a chance, man. Drop the gun and let it go."

"Drop the gun?" said Gerald. "Let it go? You must be mad. My son's life is at stake here. My reputation—his reputation—everything is in jeopardy."

"From Cody?" Nick strained his ears to figure out where Gerald was standing. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." Gerald's voice grew waspish, but then he fell silent.

Lying next to Nick was a metal wrench. He grabbed it and threw it a few feet to the side of where he'd last heard Gerald's voice, making a wild guess that he'd moved in that direction. There was a clang and a curse, and Nick grinned. "Listen, Gerald, just throw in the towel now." _Cody's almost there. Just gotta keep him distracted for another minute._ "The cops are on their way. Just drop it now, or it'll get worse."

"Worse?" Gerald sounded incredulous. "You can't be serious. My only son, heir to everything I have, has been the target of _blackmail_ \--"

"Blackmail?" said Nick, confused.

"Stop trying to sound innocent! Cody Allen has been blackmailing him, threatening to reveal—"

"Cody's not blackmailing anyone." Nick felt his temper start to boil.

"Derek's made regular payments to him, every week," said Gerald, his voice rising, "so Cody would keep quiet about the Alexei deal. Who do you think has been giving him the money for these payments? And now Cody's demanding more. I can't let this continue. I can't let Cody reveal the nature of the Alexei deal. It would ruin Derek. They might even kill him. It would destroy my business—" There was a shout, and a shot rang out. Grunts. Cursing. Nick sat still, frozen in fright.

To stay still at that moment was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He wanted to jump out from behind the cover, grab Gerald, wrestle him down, but he knew it could be disastrous. He had to trust Cody to take him down. If he came out, it would only distract him.

Another shot. More cursing. And then another. _If he hasn't reloaded, then that's the last one._ Nick sat still, scared to death, waiting.

"Nick, I've got him," said Cody breathlessly.

Relief washed over Nick, and he felt light-headed. "Cody…"

"It's all okay." There was the unmistakable sound of a gun sliding across the floor.

"You were going to ruin him," said Gerald. "You were going to expose him and ruin him and Sergei would find him and kill him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Cody angrily. "I don't even know what the Alexei deal is. I've never blackmailed Derek."

"He was soaking you, Gerald," said Nick, trying to leverage himself off the floor. His hip hurt too much, though, and his arm burned like fire. The best he could do was crawl from behind the barrels. _Have to see Cody…make sure he's okay…_

Cody was picking Gerald up off the floor, controlling him by pinning one arm behind his back. "Nick? What do you mean?"

"Derek pretended you—Cody—knew about the case, and came sobbing to Daddy for money, telling him you were going to expose everything. And now that you're not paying him your percentage, he's desperate for a new source of income. Maybe he's into the mob for gambling debts, or a deal went bad, and he's gotta get more money. So he tells Daddy that you've upped the payments."

"You're lying," shouted Gerald. "You're lying. You've been blackmailing him—"

"No, I haven't," said Cody angrily. "I left your firm because of the dirty business. That's why I moved to Les's firm. I wanted to get away from you. I haven't blackmailed anyone."

"Cody!" Derek came into view, looking frantic. They all turned to look. Nick noticed that his hands were empty and he didn't appear to have a gun on him. Derek glanced at Nick, and then focused all his attention on Cody. "Thank god. I had no idea he'd try this—"

"Did you lie to me?" asked Gerald, his voice cold.

Derek blinked and then looked nervous. "Well, I didn't…I mean, I…"

"Tell me the truth."

"Fine," said Derek. "Yes, I lied to you. But I had to. You wouldn't have given me the money otherwise."

Gerald's face was suffused with anger, and Nick watched as Cody tightened his grip. "You…lied to me!"

"I needed the money!" shouted Derek. "If you weren't so fucking cheap, I wouldn't have had to borrow from Ferguson—"

"Ferguson?" said Gerald, gaping. "The loan shark?"

"You think the bank would have given me a loan?" said Derek, rolling his eyes. "With what as collateral?"

"You could have—"

"I owed a hundred grand to Justin Woo," said Derek, crossing his arms. "That's not exactly good business for a bank. I had to get it from Ferguson."

Nick shivered on the floor, and even Gerald winced. Woo ran a legendary gambling den and was well-known for making examples of those who didn't pay.

A siren wailed, so close that Derek jumped. He spun to look at Nick, furious. "You called the police!"

"Hell yes," said Nick, giving him a smile with teeth.

The door burst open, and Carlisle came in with a dozen cops. Nick closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. Pain blazed through his hip, and his arm throbbed. He could hear people yelling at each other. The sound of a scuffle.

"Nick, you were hit," said Cody, sounding frightened.

He opened his eyes to find Cody right in front of him, folding his jacket and then putting it under his head. "Aw, c'mon, I'm fine," he said.

"No, you're bleeding." Cody ripped the sleeve of Nick's jacket, examining the gash. "Just lie still. I had one of the officers call for an ambulance."

"Huh? Cody, it just needs a few stitches. The paramedic—"

"Hold still." Cody glared at him. "You're going to the hospital."

Carlisle appeared next to him. "Good to see you again, Ryder."

" _Great_ to see you, man," said Nick. "You guys came just in time."

"We'll need a statement from you, Allen. And Ryder, too, but I can just stop by and get that at the hospital." He studied his arm. "Nasty crease you've got there."

"Coupla stitches," said Nick. He felt dizzy. The ceiling spun very slowly above him.

"I'll check on the ambulance," said Carlisle.

"Why the hell did you come out here?" asked Cody quietly.

"Why the hell did _you_?"

"Gerald called and said he had something to tell me, and he threatened you…"

"Cody, you know better. An empty warehouse? A jerk like that who says he has info?" Nick blinked heavily. "You're just—he was really going to _kill_ you, Cody—"

"I know," said Cody, sounding miserable. "I know. I'm lucky that you came out here. I was just…I was scared of what he could do to you…" He paused. "Why _did_ you come? Was it Derek?"

"Yeah. Derek called me. He was afraid Daddy was going to end up in jail."

"The game went too far," said Cody, shaking his head. "He pushed Gerald too hard for money, and Gerald decided to put an end to it."

An EMT put his gear down next to them, and he and his partner started to examine Nick. Cody backed off, but only a little, and told one of them about Nick's hip surgery and the gunshot wound.

 _Barely a gunshot._ Nick blinked again.

Despite his protests, they loaded him on a gurney and took him for a ride in the ambulance to Marina Medical Center. Cody stayed behind, and Nick felt anxiety grow within him on his way to the ER. He wanted to be with Cody.

Predictably, a pair of cops showed up and took his statement. They were businesslike, professional, and Nick told them what had happened as best he could while the ER doctor began stitching up his arm. The cops thanked him and left.

Tim showed up just as the ER doctor was putting the final stitch in. "Cody called me."

"Hey, join the party," said Nick.

Tim looked tired. "How is it you keep ending up here? Your karma must be way out of balance." He gave him a halfhearted smile.

"Now that the stitches are done, I can go, right?"

Tim blinked. "No, Nick. We're going to do a couple x-rays, make sure your hip's okay."

Nick sighed. "Damn."

"You've been tackling people, what do you expect?" Tim watched as the ER doctor taped a bandage in place.

"I didn't really tackle anyone," said Nick. "I just got Cody out of the way—"

"By tackling him. He told me. So it's off to an x-ray. And then we'll check your range of motion. It won't take long, I promise. I just want to be sure that everything's okay."

It _did_ take long, however. He waited for an x-ray for over an hour, and then he sat alone in the x-ray office for a half hour while the hospital staff paged Tim. The tension kept growing. He was worried about Cody, worried that the police were detaining him.

Tim finally showed up, looking harried. "Sorry about that. They kept telling me you were in a different area, and it took forever for me to figure out where you really were."

"Have you heard from Cody?"

Tim shook his head. "Here, I'll give you a lift." He got behind the wheelchair and pushed.

The range of motion test was the same one he'd done a hundred times before. It hurt, but not as bad as it had.

Tim seemed satisfied. "You've healed quite a bit," he said. "Not that I'd recommend tackling anyone else anytime soon."

"I had to," said Nick. His arm throbbed and he repositioned it, wincing.

"I know," said Tim quietly. "I'm glad you did."

"What else did he tell you? What are the cops saying?"

"I don't know." Tim shrugged. "It was a pretty quick conversation. Cody still had to call his lawyer."

"His lawyer?" Panic welled up inside of him. "Are they charging him—"

"Nick, calm down," said Tim. "Everything will work out."

"I need to call—"

"The best thing to do is wait," said Tim firmly. "I'm sure that Cody's just doing everything in the smartest way possible. Bringing in his lawyer first is probably just a good idea."

"Yeah." Nick thought for a minute. _When it's you against a rich bastard and his bastard of a son, it's a good idea._ He felt his stomach cramp with worry. _I just want to hear his voice._

"He'll be fine." Tim's voice was soothing. "How's the pain level now? Is it decreasing?"

"Yeah, sure," said Nick. The shot they'd given him earlier had helped take the edge off.

"I'll go check the results of the x-rays," said Tim. "Just stay here. Don't do anything crazy, okay? Cody will never forgive me."

Nick nodded and watched him leave. He wanted to get up and take a cab to the police station, but he stayed put, the tension winding him tighter and tighter. Another fifteen minutes, and then a half hour, and he was ready to climb the walls.

Tim finally came back. "I'm sorry that took so long. They misplaced your x-rays and it took some time to find them. Based on the results, I think you'll be fine, but you should stay in bed for the next couple days, especially considering the blood loss. Try to drink fluids and get some rest. I'll get a sling for you and you should wear it for at least four days."

Nick groaned. He hated slings. "Fine. Did you hear from Cody?"

"No, I'm sorry." Tim looked worried. "Look, let's get the discharge paperwork filled out, and then we can get you home…you do have a key, don't you?" Nick shook his head. "Damn. Well, we can go to my house if we have to. I'll go get the paperwork."

Those ten minutes seemed to take forever. Nick fidgeted, his stomach in knots until Tim came back. He filled out his name and information with a shaky hand, and finally they were on their way out of the hospital, over to Tim's car, which turned out to be a pearl-colored Audi 200. Nick got into the leather seat with difficulty, and Tim returned the wheelchair.

"He's got your carphone number, right?" said Nick when Tim got in.

Tim started the car. "I don't have a carphone. But yes, he has my cell phone number." Music came flooding in, and Tim jabbed a button on the radio, turning off the sound of the Grateful Dead. "I'm sure everything will be fine," he added.

"Yeah. Sure." Nick wasn't convinced.

It wasn't far to Tim's house, and it was in the same subdivision as Cody's, just a street over. As Tim neared the driveway, his cell phone suddenly rang. "We'll be right there," he said, and put the phone back in his pocket.

"That was—"

"Cody. He's on his way home. We'll meet him there."

An intense wave of relief washed over Nick, and he exhaled, feeling tears prick his eyes. Tim pulled into Cody's driveway and parked. "Did he sound okay?" asked Nick.

"Yes." Tim gave him a smile, and there was relief on his face as well.

The garage door suddenly opened, and Nick turned to see the Yukon coming down the street, followed by the Caddy, and a patrol car. Tim backed out, and Cody parked the Yukon in the garage. It turned out to be Carlisle driving the Caddy, and they shook hands after he got out and exchanged a few words. The patrol car drove off with Carlisle, and Tim reparked his car.

Nick opened the car door and Cody was there in a heartbeat, helping him out, looking tired but happy. Nick didn't care who was there, he didn't care if the entire neighborhood was watching; he grabbed Cody and held him close, just feeling him breathe, letting the feel of his body take the tension away.

"I know, Nick, I know," said Cody softly. "Come on, we should get inside."

His arm throbbed and his head ached. Nick let Cody and Tim help him inside. Tim gave Cody a hug, and then left, and Cody helped Nick get out of the sling and then his clothes. They got in bed, and Cody held him close.

"Is it…is it okay? Did you get charged with anything?" asked Nick.

"Everything's fine." Cody pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "My lawyer was pretty cheerful about the whole thing. There's no proof that Derek blackmailed me, and it looks pretty bad for Gerald. In fact, they were tripping over each other to make deals to put the other in jail."

"Good. They both need to go down."

Cody kissed him again, his lips warm and soft. "Yep. And you need some sleep."

"You do, too."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Cody stroked his stomach, his fingers moving through his belly fur, making small, comforting circles. Nick sighed and closed his eyes, sliding into welcome sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning dawned overcast and drizzly, the light gloomy and wan. Nick only got out of bed to answer nature's call, and afterward, he got back under the covers and Cody pulled him close.

Michele didn't come over, and Cody kept his cell phone turned off and took the office phone off the hook, tricks they'd learned from having the detective agency and dealing with cases that might attract the attention of reporters or the curious. Cody closed all the blinds and they spent much of the morning in bed, Nick half-asleep and drifting off on painkillers while Cody read.

Cody's home number was unlisted, and only a few people knew it. Tim called early to check on them, and then Tammi called in a panic later on, and Cody calmed her down. Nick talked to her, too, assuring her that they were both okay, and that yes, it had been a stupid thing to do for both of them.

Lunch was in bed, Cody sitting tight against his right side, and even though it made it a little difficult to maneuver his good arm, Nick didn't say a word.

Eventually they ended up in the living room, watching a home remodeling show. Cody paid close attention to it while Nick read another Tony Hillerman book. The phone rang again, and Cody ducked into his office to apologize to Clark for missing their appointment.

Late in the afternoon there was a knock at the door. Nick groaned, expecting a reporter, but it turned out to be Tammi, Eric, and Tim, who brought over groceries and insisted on making dinner for them.

Tammi wouldn't take no for an answer, and Eric immediately set up in the kitchen and refused all offers of help. Nick could tell that Cody was a little annoyed, but he hid it beautifully, and they left Eric to his devices and went and sat in the living room.

"The color of the walls…this is great!" enthused Tammi. "I love the Ansel Adams photographs. And the furniture…it's so nice! And comfy, too."

"Thanks," said Cody, beaming.

"The chairs are comfortable," said Tim. "Looks great."

Nick shifted until the throb in his arm lessened. "How's the studio coming along?" he asked Tammi.

"It's a nightmare!" she said, a stormy look passing over her face. "I hired someone to put in new flooring, and he never showed up. And then the painters couldn't start."

"And the jerks at the telephone company screwed up the phone line," called out Eric.

"Oh yes!" she said. "You wouldn't believe the disaster that's become. I wanted two phone lines, and somehow they screwed up and put in only one, and now they're saying I need to pay extra for the second installation. I argued and argued, but the work order only said one phone line and they just won't budge. So I finally just asked them to send someone out for the second line—"

"You really should have checked the first line, honey, I told you so—" said Eric.

"Stop getting ahead of me," said Tammi. "Anyway, the installation man gets there, and he couldn't get a second line in, and he pointed out that the first line didn't even work!" She made a gesture of annoyance. "It's a mess."

"Wait till you have to work out the taxes," said Nick.

A flash of something went across Cody's face, and Nick tried to figure out what it was. _Murray, maybe?_

"Cody, you have a cutting board?" said Eric. “A large cutting board?” Cody jumped up and went into the kitchen.

"My postcards were supposed to be mailed next week, but at this rate I think I'm going to have to postpone it," said Tammi.

"Well, yeah," said Nick. "You need a working phone when they start calling."

Tim asked a few more questions, and Nick relaxed, listening as they chatted amiably about Tammi's business and Tim's eccentric patients. His arm kept throbbing, which wasn't unexpected. He'd been shot before, and this was a drop in the bucket compared to that.

Cody and Eric were in the kitchen, talking in low voices. Actually, it seemed like Eric was doing most of the talking; he heard Gwennie's name mentioned more than once, and guessed that there was a new chapter in her asshole ex-husband story.

The scent from the kitchen was enticing. Chicken and herbs, definitely. He was getting hungrier. Tim got up and volunteered to set the table, and Tammi sat down in the recliner next to Nick and smiled at him.

"How are you doing?" she asked him quietly.

"Better than ever," he said truthfully. "My hip's better than it's been in a long time. And Cody…" He gave her a grin. "That's better than anything's been in a long time, too."

"I'm glad." She gave him a happy smile. "I'm so glad. You don't know how worried I've been—and Eric, too—for so long…" She held out her hand.

"Thanks." Nick took her outstretched hand and squeezed it gently. "I couldn't have gotten through this without you."

"I nearly passed out when I saw Cody walk through the door. At the party," she added, after he gave her a confused look. "I'd invited you, and I had no idea that Eric had run into him by chance and invited him, too. We were both freaking out, but Eric said we should just wait and see. And then Cody pushed you! I was ready to kick him right out the door."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Me, too." She squeezed his hand. "He was so contrite afterward. I've never seen him look so upset."

"I didn't know," said Nick.

"He was nearly crying after it happened. Eric and I were trying to decide what to do, but then he said he'd take care of you. And boy, that was a shock. I really thought he'd just take off before you even woke up, but he stuck around, and when he said he'd take you home…"

"I wasn't expecting it either. I couldn't believe he was still there."

"If you had seen his face," said Tammi, "you'd understand why I let him stay. And then later, Tim told me he thought you two might hook up again, but I wasn’t sure, until that day at the hospital, when Cody got so upset that Tim had to take him home."

They were both quiet for a minute or two, and then she gave him a smile. "You really do look like you're feeling better."

"Yeah," he said. "And Cody's feeding me egg whites and seaweed—"

"I never made you eat seaweed," Cody called out from the kitchen.

"Have you seen his cabinets?" asked Nick. "Powdered fish, dried squid, algae…"

"It's good for you," insisted Cody. "Tim, tell them how nutritious it is."

"It might be nutritious, but I'm not going to eat algae," said Tim.

Cody pouted, but only a little. Dinner was nearly ready, and they all sat down in the dining room. Nick pulled his sling off, ignoring a dark look from Cody.

Eric brought in a tray full of chicken coated with a glaze and toasted almond slices. "This is my mom's recipe," he said. "She makes it all the time. I just made it a little fancier." There were also stuffed tomatoes, grilled asparagus, and a creamy risotto that was pretty good, though privately Nick thought he could have done it better.

There was even hot crusty Italian bread and goat's milk butter, along with a dish of sea salt. It was a terrific meal, and by the end Nick felt pleasantly sated, even though his arm was throbbing like mad.

Conversation turned to Tammi's new yoga studio, and she enthusiastically filled them in on everything from the carpeting to the style of mats to the color of the phones. Tim was more quiet than usual.

Dessert was a large fruit tart, and everyone had a piece. Eric poured ice wine for everyone, Nick included. The custard in the tart wasn't too sweet, and there was a thin layer of dark chocolate between it and the shell. It was delicious.

"I'd like to make a toast," said Tammi. "To Nick and Cody…to getting back together, and to love."

"Hear, hear," said Cody, flashing Nick a quick smile. Nick took a sip of the wine and found it to be much too sweet.

“I'd like to make a toast as well," said Eric. "To Tammi, and her new yoga studio. Here's hoping it's a great success."

Tammi blushed and clinked her glass against Eric's, smiling giddily.

"Hear, hear," said Nick. He felt a flush of warmth from the wine, his happiness lifting as Cody laid his hand on his back, gently stroking.

"I think this is the proper time to make an announcement," said Eric.

"An announcement?" said Tammi. "About what?"

"Well, it's a little early, but I think it's the perfect time for your Christmas present." Eric reached in his pocket.

"Christmas present?" asked Tammi. "It's not even—"

"I know, I know," said Eric. "But I think it's time. With the new studio, and all of the other stuff that's going on…" He pulled out a set of car keys and dangled them in front of her.

Tammi's eyes got wide. "You bought me a car?"

"Merry Christmas," said Eric, grinning.

Tammi shrieked and grabbed the keys. "Where is it?"

"In the driveway."

"How did you—never mind! I don't care how you did it!" She leapt up and ran out the door.

Cody picked up his wineglass and together they followed Eric out the door. Tammi was racing around her new candy-apple red convertible, incoherent with glee.

"Looks like you picked well," said Tim, nudging Eric in the ribs with his elbow.

"She's been wanting one forever," said Eric. "Her old car was on its last legs. I got a bonus at work, and I thought—"

Tammi noticed that they'd come out, and ran up and grabbed Eric, squealing and kissing him. "You! I can't believe this! You just said we couldn't afford one…oh, you devil!" She kissed him again and he picked her up, twirling her around.

"Nice," said Tim appreciatively. "Wish I'd gotten a present like this. My mom always gave me socks for Hanukah."

"Socks?" said Cody.

"Eight pairs every year, like clockwork." He sighed.

"Best I ever did was a bicycle," said Nick. He shared a look with Tim, the look of kids who'd grown up without.

"I want to take it for a test drive," said Tammi. "You guys don't mind, right?"

"Go on," said Cody, hand resting lightly on Nick's waist. "Have fun."

"Yes, of course!" said Tammi. She turned to Eric, tugging on his arm. "C'mon, c'mon!"

They watched as Tammi drove away, waving excitedly. Nick only felt a little pang, remembering the 'Vette.

Tim turned to them. "Sorry to be a spoilsport, but I need to run, too."

"Hot date?" asked Nick.

Tim hesitated, and Cody tensed next to him. "Not really. Just…some unfinished business to settle."

"Hope it goes well," said Nick. Tim nodded and gave them both a sheepish wave before getting into his Audi and driving off.

"They left us the dirty dishes," grumbled Cody. He tracked Tim's car with worried eyes.

"He'll be fine." Nick looked over at Cody. "And you've got a dishwasher."

Cody exhaled, and then smiled at Nick. "I thought you hated doing dishes."

"I wasn't talking about me, funny guy." He winced as his hip twinged. "How about we go in and clean up?"

"Sure." Cody followed him in, and together they took care of the kitchen and the dining room.

There was a James Bond marathon on one of the channels, and they watched nearly all of _Dr. No_ and a half hour of _Goldfinger_ before Nick got up and went into the bedroom.

It took only five minutes before Cody came in to investigate, and by that point Nick was completely undressed, lying on top of the covers.

"Nick?" asked Cody before he came to a stop, mouth open, staring.

"Thinking about you got me hard," said Nick, stroking his cock just to show him exactly how hard he was.

Cody pulled off his shirt and pants and practically dove onto the bed. Within minutes, they were kissing, hot and heavy, hands roaming everywhere. Cody rolled him on his back, covering him with his body, and Nick paid special attention to the kiss, filling it with all the passion he felt for Cody, giving him everything he could.

When they broke apart, Cody was panting.

"I want to get fucked," growled Nick. "I want you to fuck me." A flash of pure lust lit Cody's blue eyes, followed almost immediately by a flicker of fright. "You're not going to hurt me. I want you so bad—"

"Nick, I think…" Cody licked his lips, hesitant.

"I want you. I took a painkiller already, I'm here in the bed, you're going to go slow, you'll be careful…what the hell do I have to say to get you to fuck me?"

Cody closed his eyes. "It's not worth…Nick, if I hurt you—"

"Look at me. _You're not going to hurt me._ I want you. Now." He put one hand on Cody's forearm. "Don't think about it. Just do it." He pulled Cody down and kissed him again, slowly, sensually, letting his tongue glide across Cody's lips.

He moaned into the kiss. "Nick…"

"Yeah, Cody, c'mon, make it good…" murmured Nick.

Cody broke apart, looking dazed for a moment. Then he reached into a cabinet of the headboard and pulled out a bottle of lube. "You're—"

"Yes, I'm sure, I want it, I know you'll be careful—"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to stay on your back, actually," said Cody, looking amused.

"Oh. Sure."

Cody grabbed a pillow and carefully positioned it underneath him, and then reached for the lube. "If you feel any pain…"

"Cody, if you don't fuck me _right now_ , so help me God…"

"I'm going to fuck you," promised Cody. "Right into the mattress."

Nick felt Cody's hot, lubed fingers pressing into him, and he inhaled sharply. "It's…ah…been some time."

"Me, too." Cody's fingers circled his entrance, raising goosebumps on his arms. "You look so good. So hot." One finger penetrated him, and Nick tensed at first. Cody's other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lightly, and Nick moaned his name.

Cody added another finger, stretching him, the burn turning to pleasure and Nick couldn't stand it any longer. "Now," he gasped. "Cody, please—"

Then the hot, slick head of Cody's cock was up against him, and he groaned as Cody thrust into him, his hard cock pressing into him, filling him. Cody leaned forward and kissed him fiercely, hot and wet, and then began to move, slowly, every inch controlled, until Nick kissed him back just as fiercely and growled at him to speed up.

Hot slick cock, arms full of his beautiful Cody, delicious gasping kisses, rough moans—he could not imagine anything better on earth. He loved the sensations, the slick slide of his cock, the closeness, the heat. Cody's thrusts grew erratic and his face was transfixed as he cried out, and Nick watched, devouring every detail of the look in his eyes.

Cody paused, closing his eyes, gasping, the sweat standing out on his skin. "Wow." He reopened his eyes and leaned on one arm, wiping his face before he reached down and took Nick's cock in his hand, gripping it just right and stroking it hard and fast until Nick was clutching at the sheets and shouting. Waves of come pulsed out of him, and he shouted Cody's name as he wrung the last of his orgasm from him and then left him exhausted and boneless.

"That was…" Cody pulled out carefully, and then lay beside him, his skin wet with sweat. He pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. "Better than ever."

"Mmm." Nick pulled him close, kissing his neck. "Yeah."

Cody folded the cover over them awkwardly and they fell asleep like that, on top of the blankets, limbs entwined, the love between them so strong that it was almost a tangible thing.

\--------------

Epilogue: three months later

Mimi didn't respond to Nick's first entreaty, so he repeated it with a little force thrown in for good measure, and then there was the answering whine that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and set his heart to pounding.

 _Back in the sky._

He'd gone through all the filters with a fine-tooth comb, flushed out her systems, rebuilt her cursed carburetor (for the hundred and thirty-eighth time), and now was the moment when it all came together.

He eased the cyclic up.

She responded with only a slight wibble, and he grinned, feeling joy rise within him as the landing pad shrank away underneath her. The sky was perfectly clear. Houses and hills and trees and roads all swirled below him, and he took her a little higher.

He flew north and then west, relaying his erratic flying plan to the tower as he did so, and gradually land turned to beach turned to ocean. He spent some time marveling at the flash of sun on water, at the familiar shapes of islands rising from the ocean, white flecks of sailboats littering the sparkling blue.

The world was a beautiful place.

Even more beautiful because of who would be waiting for him at home. Every day was a new day full of love and happiness. He snorted. _I sound like a cheesy song._ Still, he couldn't help but think of how they'd spent the last two months; Cody cooking breakfast, spending the day working on his business, out on appointments, and coming home to Nick's good Italian dinners. A little TV, a movie here or there, mind-blowing sex, and a warm embrace every night.

Life didn't get much better than that.

Only one thing still nagged at him, still broke his peace at night, still plagued him with dark dreams. And with luck, he'd put that to rest this afternoon.

\---------------------------

Nick waited at the kitchen table, checking his watch nervously. _Any minute now._ He heard the mechanism for the garage door engage, and the familiar growl of the Caddy.

"What happened?" asked Cody, coming into the house. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Nick in his best soothing tone. "Great."

"Your message…" Cody frowned. "You said I needed to get home right away. Did something happen with the Mimi?"

"No, Mimi's fine."

"The flight was okay?"

"Yeah, the flight was great."

"Is it your hip?"

"No. Hip's fine." Nick glanced at his watch again.

"Are you coming down with something?" Cody's frown deepened.

"Cody, I'm not sick. I'm not in pain. I'm okay."

"Then why…"

There was a knock at the front door, and Nick jumped out of the chair, ignoring the flash of pain in his hip. Cody looked bewildered as he watched him open the door.

"Nick," said Murray, standing at the threshold. He looked further inside. "Oh, and Cody…"

"Murray?" said Cody, looking absolutely stunned. "Murray?" He took a step forward.

"C'mon in," said Nick, taking Murray by the arm and guiding him inside. He closed the door behind him. "It's good to see you."

The years had not been kind to him; still rail-thin, his face looked tired and wan. But his eyes were as expressive as ever, full of compassion and vitality, and Nick was not surprised when Murray suddenly hugged him. "I've missed you guys so much," he said, and then he began to cry.

Cody joined the embrace, and then they were all crying. All the years between them melted away, and they were the Riptide Detective Agency again, best friends and partners and roommates, and Nick squeezed them both tightly.

Eventually, though, they broke apart, and Nick wiped his eyes. Cody still looked dazed, glancing back and forth at them.

"I called Murray," explained Nick. "He lives in Seattle now, but he was going to be in town for a conference—"

"I only have a few minutes," said Murray apologetically. "The cab is waiting outside."

"I just don't even…" Cody wiped his eyes, and then looked down at his feet. "Murray, I should tell you…"

"I'm sorry," said Murray, his voice cracking. "I left, and I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have listened to Gloria and I'm sorry. I just felt so guilty, and I kept remembering…him. I thought it would be easier on all of us…I thought it would help you both forget if I left."

"No, Murray," said Nick gently. "It didn't help at the time. It made it harder, but I understand why you did it." He hugged him again impulsively. "In the long run, maybe it was actually for the best."

Cody still stood there, quiet, watching them.

"I'm so sorry." Murray leaned back and looked him in the eye. "I just wish I'd known that you were calling all that time. I thought…that you didn't want to talk to me any longer."

"No, Murray, never," said Nick with feeling. "I'll always want to talk to you. You're one of my best friends. And I'm sorry, too. I should have kept calling. I should have knocked down your door."

Murray smiled at that, and then turned to look at Cody for a long moment. "Cody…you know it's not your fault, right?"

"I should never have…" said Cody, his voice so quiet they could barely hear him. "I never should have chosen that cover. I never—"

Murray shook his head. "My actions are my own, and I take responsibility for them." He cocked his head. "When do you think you'll pay enough for this?"

Tears trickled down Cody's face and he swallowed.

"I think we all should take some guilt for getting into that situation," said Nick softly.

"But the time for that guilt is past," said Murray. "He…Suresh…wouldn't want you to bear this for so long." He smiled a bittersweet smile. "Haritha told me that."

Cody covered his face with his hands, and Nick and Cody held him as he sobbed. "I'm sorry, Murray, I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," soothed Murray.

Nick could feel the tension leaving Cody, could feel the ghost finally fading. Cody's sobs died down and became a few deep breaths, and then they all broke apart, Nick wiping his eyes again.

Murray's watch chimed. "I hate to do this," he said with a wan smile, "but I really need to get going. I have a plane to catch."

"Thank you," said Nick, catching his hand in his own. "We'll plan a trip to Seattle, come up to see you and the kids."

"Kids?" said Cody, looking gobsmacked.

"Yes," said Murray proudly. "You're uncles. I'll have to arrange it with Gloria…" He dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief. "Thank you, Nick, for calling me."

"Love you, man," said Nick, embracing him one last time and watching as Cody did, too.

Then Murray was walking out into the bright Californian sunlight.

"I can't believe," said Cody. "I can't believe he's…that he doesn't hate me."

"Of course not," said Nick, surprised. "He loves you. Never stopped, if I know Murray. Now that Gloria's filed for divorce, he told me he's been realizing how much of his life he put aside for her."

"I think…I think I need to sit down."

"C'mon, big guy. Over here." Nick steered him to the couch. "I know, it's a lot of news at once." He fetched a glass of water and made Cody drink some of it. "But the important thing is that we'll go see him again. And he's okay. He really is."

Cody nodded absently, putting the glass of water down on the coffee table.

"And so am I."

Cody nodded again.

"And you are, too."

He turned to look at him, and his eyes were such a tangle of emotion that at first Nick couldn't even figure out what was going on. Gradually, though, he saw love, and guilt, and for the first time, a gleam of hope and peace.

"Love you," said Nick softly, kissing him.

"Love you, too," said Cody, returning the kiss with passion.

\---------------------------

Nick put on his jacket and looked around. The kitchen was clean and quiet. Cody'd told him not to fix dinner, that they were going out as soon as he got home. _Too bad; I was going to make my grandma's risotto._

He heard the Caddy pull in, and he opened the door and went out in the garage and got in. He kissed Cody hello, and then Cody backed out and drove into King Harbor.

 _Parkville West, maybe? It's been a month or so…_ He watched as they drove past Tammi's yoga studio, and he saw the convertible parked in the lot. _We've barely seen her these past three months._ Eric had stopped by for a beer a couple times and told them that business had been slow at first, but it was picking up.

Cody didn't stop in front of Parkville West; he drove right past it, heading for Portofino. Nick frowned, wondering what was going on.

 _Some new restaurant, maybe? Going the wrong way for Hermosa Beach…_

Pier 56 came into view. Nick looked over at him, at his eyes, which were filled with a light he hadn't seen in years, and when they pulled up to one of the gates to the slips (not slip seven, but it didn't matter), he was unsurprised to see the _Riptide_ floating gently next to a dock.

"Dinner's aboard," said Cody, reaching over and squeezing his arm.

She was just as he remembered, just as he often dreamed, except for a few new changes; the TV was gone, replaced with a much larger model that was bolted in. Murray's room was empty, and in their room, the twin bunks had been replaced with a single.

Other things had changed, too. Grey hair at Cody's temples, though it blended in with the blond and wasn't that noticeable, and Nick found that the stairs were a little harder to navigate. Plus, he kept missing Murray's infectious laughter and chatter.

He felt his eyes grow misty. The boat had been his home for so many years. He'd shared so much with Cody.

"Pull in the stern line, will you?" asked Cody, and Nick went out to the fantail and leaned over, wincing a little at the pain in his hip. He worked the loop of rope off the cleat, his fingers remembering it well.

Cody didn't take them out into the open sea; it looked a little rough, and it was cold out. Instead they went into the harbor, and they ate dinner in the salon before heading out to the fantail to watch the sunset.

The sun was a ball of fire, brilliant, lighting the clouds with pink and purple streaks, the darkening indigo sky above it holding the half moon in its embrace. Nick felt Cody's arms around him, his warmth and love reassuring.

They'd been through so much together. So much pain, blood, jungle heat at first; the years of running the agency and dodging bullets, living on peanut butter and optimism. The dark times after Suresh's death, and finally the surgery and recovery. Nick covered Cody's hand with his own, feeling the smooth flesh underneath, the strong bones that had taken such care of him.

Turning, he kissed Cody, a kiss that he turned into an oath of love, a promise for the future. Cody responded in kind as the sun slid below the waters and the sky became lit with stars.


End file.
